


The Man with No Name

by Dingoes8MyName



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dialogue Heavy, Eventual Romance, F/M, Heavy Angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-06
Updated: 2019-06-30
Packaged: 2019-08-19 22:50:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 27
Words: 19,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16543829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dingoes8MyName/pseuds/Dingoes8MyName
Summary: This story takes place after episode 14.02 “Gods and Monsters.”The arrival of John Winchester raises many questions, and gives us a glimpse into a world in which a few vital moments went a different way.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story creates an alternate universe, and introduces an alternate version of John Winchester that doesn't exist in the show. Because of this, I couldn't properly tag him as AU John Winchester. I have taken some liberties with his characterization and personality based on how I imagine his path diverged from what we saw in the show. This is not the John Winchester we saw in early seasons.
> 
> This fanfiction is still being written, so my tags may be incomplete. I'll try to update them as I go, but I'm fallible so I could miss a few.
> 
> I rated this fic mature because there are some descriptions of violence and there's a lot of swearing peppered throughout. 
> 
> This piece is written in a different style than the other piece I have on here, so be prepared for a shift in narrative style if you've read my previous posts.
> 
> Feel free to drop me some constructive criticism, but please refrain from simply leaving things like "I didn't like this" with no reason as to why. That doesn't help me improve my writing. 
> 
> This piece is being crossposted on my Tumblr: http://dingoes8myrp.tumblr.com/post/179837770402/supernatural-the-man-with-no-name

**Prologue**

May 1st, 1973  
Lawrence, Kansas

_This hunter’s kind of strange. But, I guess we all are. You have to be to do what we do, right?_

_We talked about John. I don’t know why he wanted to know about him, or why I felt the need to pour my heart out to him. He is practically a stranger. But, he listened. I mean, he **really** listened. So I told him. How I wanted to marry John, get out of hunting, start a family._

_I don’t know why I told him all that. I think I freaked him out because he got this weird look on his face like he might be sick._

_He said “Hey, Mary. Can I tell you something?”_

_I said “Sure.”_

_After all, I had just spilled my guts to the guy._

_“Even if this sounds really weird,” he said. “Will you promise me that you will remember?”_

_He was very emphatic about that, which I thought was weird. But, I said “Okay.”_

_This is what he told me._

_“On November 2nd, 1983, don’t get out of bed. No matter what you hear or what you see, promise me you won’t get out of bed.”_

_And he looked so desperate, so genuinely concerned about it._

_I said “Okay.”_

**One**

October 25th, 2018  
Lebanon, Kansas

Crickets chirped in the night. Bright stars shone in pin pricks out of a blue-black sky. A desolate road wound its way through tall, reaching trees.

There was a faint crackling noise. A speck of bright yellow on the world. That speck glowed and lengthened into a line of brilliant yellow light.

A man stumbled through, catching himself just before he fell. He clutched his side, blood seeping through his plain gray shirt and the casual button-down over that. His jeans were spattered with blood and dirt. He had a rugged, worn out backpack slung over his shoulders, two ammo belts around his hips, empty holsters on either side. He held of a shotgun while he kept his balance.

He straightened, staring at the yellow light - the door he’d just fallen through. He took a few slow steps back, running a hand along his stubbled jaw.

“Son of a bitch…”

John Winchester turned around to see where the hell he’d landed.


	2. Chapter 2

**Two**

It smelled like coffee. Mary felt warm and cozy and safe. John’s voice drifted to her from somewhere far off. She couldn’t hear the words, but she recognized the cadence of his voice, the low timbre and the gentle rhythm of his words.

Mary woke up with a jolt. Her room in the bunker came into focus as she opened her eyes.

All at once she remembered where she was.

The voice she’d heard still drifted in from somewhere down the hall. God, it sounded so much like John.

Mary sat up and slung her legs over the side of the bed. Her jeans from yesterday were in a heap on the floor. She’d gone to bed in a long-sleeved white shirt. She sat there for a moment, stretching her neck, processing. Orienting herself.

Mary got up, pulled on her jeans, and went over to the sink mounted on the wall. There was a medicine cabinet a few inches taller than she needed, so she could see the top of her head and her eyes in the mirror. Her hair was a disaster. She must have tossed and turned.

Cleaned up and dressed, ready for human interaction, Mary ventured out to the main part of the bunker - a war room, really. It was a hub of activity most of the time. As she walked toward the heart of things, the smell of coffee heavy in the room, she could hear people talking, murmured conversations, interjections. Then a sharper voice cut through it.

“Guys. _Guys_.”

The murmurs died down and Sam stood at the head of the table, hunched slightly so he could refer to whatever he had out - maps, books, lore.

“I know you’re eager to get your answers and get back in there,” he said. “But, we’ve tried that before, and it was a disaster. We need to be prepared, and we need a solid plan.”

It was Sam’s voice, she realized. Her baby boy, a man now, who sounded so much like John she couldn’t breathe.

Another voice behind her made her jump.

“Hey.”

She turned sharply. Dean shoved his hands in his pockets. She smiled.

“Hey.”

Dean hadn’t been back long. Maybe ten hours. He’d been quiet, standoffish, all back-offs and I’m-fines. 

He wasn’t fine. He couldn’t be. Sam knew it. Mary certainly knew it. She saw herself in the way he closed up like that. But, she saw John in Dean, too. The way he stood with his hands in his pockets, his head tilted slightly to the side as he looked at her - _really_ looked at her, like he was trying to puzzle something out.

“You okay?” he asked.

Mary blinked at him.

“Am _I_ okay?” she asked. “I should be asking _you_ that, right?”

Dean shrugged.

“I’m fine,” he insisted.

He looked over at the cluster of people talking with Sam.

“You just looked…” he began.

Mary studied him and his gaze ticked over to her.

“I dunno, you looked like someone just sucker-punched you,” he said.

She smiled.

“I’m okay,” she said. “It’s just a lot.”

She gestured to the room and Dean nodded.

“Yeah. Full house,” he agreed.

Sam ran a hand over his face. He looked tired. Mary wondered when he’d gotten up. When he’d gone to bed.

“Coffee?” Dean asked.

Mary looked over at him.

“What?”

Dean had already taken a few steps toward the kitchen. He stopped, glancing over his shoulder.

“I’m gonna go get some coffee. You want a cup?”

Mary smiled.

“Yeah. I could go for some coffee. I’ll come with you.”

“I got it,” Dean said. “Thanks.”

Mary watched him walk toward the kitchen, doing his best to avoid the eyes on him. Sam watched his brother, and watched all the others watch his brother. His brows creased slightly. Then Sam’s gaze fell on Mary and softened with relief. He gave her a nod in greeting as he headed toward her in a few long strides. She met him half-way.

“Morning,” she said.

He smiled, slightly strained.

“Morning.”

“You been awake long?” she asked.

He raked a hand through his hair.

“A few hours,” he said. “I get up early.”

His voice was calm, but everything else about him announced his stress. His jaw was tight. It was an effort for him to smile. He had to force his shoulders to relax. 

“How’d you sleep?” he asked.

“Fine,” she said. “Good.”

Sam smiled, genuinely.

“Good. That’s good. Mom.”

He always tacked the ‘mom’ on like an afterthought. A reminder. It wasn’t automatic the way it was with Dean.

He was so young when it happened.

“What about you, Sam?” she asked. “Did you get any sleep?”

There was warmth in her voice, genuine concern. Sam’s smile faltered and he gave a chuckle. 

“Uh… A little,” he said.

“Why don’t you catch a few hours?” she asked. “I’m up. I’ll keep an eye on everybody.”

He considered it.

“Honestly, I don’t know if I could sleep, even if I tried.”

He glanced toward the kitchen, his worry for Dean all over his furrowed brow and tight jaw. Mary put a hand on his arm and it seemed to startle him slightly.

“Sam.”

He inhaled sharply, like he was preparing himself for whatever she was going to say.

“I know you’re worried. About Dean,” she said. 

Sam exhaled and nodded.

“Yeah. Well, he hasn’t said much. About any of it. It’s hard to tell what’s going on in his head.”

Mary nodded in understanding. She was all-too familiar with the old shut-down-and-move-on strategy.

“Just give him time,” she said. “He’ll sort himself out.”

Sam nodded.

“Yeah.”

He took a breath and let it out.

“I’ll talk to him,” Mary said. “See how far I get.”

Sam smiled. He had John’s smile. All dimples.


	3. Chapter 3

**Three**

Dean rinsed the coffee pot in the sink. The second cup of coffee had been the last, so he figured he should start another pot. He was going to need more coffee.

He’d finished scooping coffee grounds into the filter and pressed “brew” when someone else came into the kitchen. Dean mentally braced himself.

“Dean?”

He turned in surprise. Jack stood in the middle of the kitchen, four empty mugs clustered awkwardly in his hands. 

“Hey, Jack.”

Dean sipped his coffee. Jack smiled pleasantly.

“I didn’t know you were awake.”

Jack went over to the sink, carefully placing the mugs on the counter.

“Just got up,” Dean said.

Actually, that wasn’t true. He’d been up most of the night. When he’d heard people start to move around he’d given up and put on his headphones. He’d listened to music until the smell of coffee lured him out.

Jack washed each mug carefully, like he was afraid he’d do it wrong.

“Cas around?” Dean asked.

Castiel looked after Jack, or tried to. 

“Somewhere,” Jack said. “Why? Do you need something? Want me to find him?”

He looked ready to drop everything and bolt. 

“No, no,” Dean said. “Relax. It’s cool.”

Jack nodded and went back to washing mugs.

Mary appeared in the doorway. She did that. She was like a ninja. You never heard her coming. She smiled and came into the kitchen.

“Hey, Jack,” she said.

Jack looked over his shoulder, his hands in the sink, and smiled.

“Hi.”

Mary gave Dean a nod.

“What happened to my coffee?” she asked. 

“Right here,” Dean said.

He turned to grab the mug off the counter and handed it to her. She took a sip. She liked her coffee black.

“I started another pot,” Dean said. 

“I see that,” she observed.

“Everyone drinks a lot of coffee,” Jack observed.

Dean saluted him with his mug.

“Welcome to adulthood, kid,” he said. “It’s all coffee and booze.”

Mary tried not to choke on the sip of coffee she’d been swallowing. Dean smiled when he saw she was trying not to laugh. She put a hand on Jack’s arm.

“Jack, why don’t you ask everybody what they want for breakfast?” she asked. 

Jack nodded.

“Okay.”

Dean looked at her in surprise as Jack dried his hands. He waited until the kid left the room.

“You’re making breakfast?” he asked.

“Or I’ll pick up breakfast,” she chuckled. “Depends on what everyone wants.”

Mary leaned against the counter next to him.

“I think everyone could use a little break,” she said.

He nodded. Sam was frayed. He could see that. Dean had left him holding the bag all this time.

“How’s Sam doin’?” he asked.

Mary took a sip of coffee before she answered.

“He’s good,” she said. “Needs a little sleep, but he’s okay.”

Dean nodded, but wondered if she was being honest. Did she even know what okay Sam looked like?

“You know he’s worried about you,” Mary concluded.

Dean shrugged.

“Must be Thursday.”

Mary gave him a look he’d call a mom look, slightly admonishing, but warm.

“Dean.”

He sighed and turned to her, putting his coffee on the counter.

“What do you want me to say, Mom?” he asked. “I was gone and it sucked. Now I’m back, and this place is full of people who keep lookin’ at me like I’m about to go all Darth Vader.”

Mary shrugged and nodded.

“Yeah. Say all of that.”

Dean studied her. 

“Look, I’m fine, okay?” he said. “I’m me. And, yeah, I’m still wrapping my head around things. But I’ll catch up.”

Mary nodded.

“I know you will.”

And Dean felt like she really did. He guessed she’d know better than anybody about catching up to things.


	4. Chapter 4

**Four**

Sam’s bed was made. He’d laid on top of it for an hour or two, but hadn’t really slept in it. He’d gone to bed at three or four in the morning, woken up at maybe six. The thought of sleep was appealing, but he wasn’t confident he’d be able to actually fall asleep. His mind was on a hundred different things. Dean. Michael. The spear. The scar. Jack. Lucifer. Kaia who wasn’t Kaia.

He closed his eyes and forced himself to breathe. Just to breathe for thirty seconds and try not to think.

“Sam?”

He turned to the woman standing in his doorway. He thought her name might have been Chloe. Or Cleo.

“Sorry,” she said. “Should I… I could come back.”

“Uh… No,” he said. “No, it’s fine. What’s up?”

“Sean got the police scanner working,” she said.

He waited for her to continue.

“Oh. That’s great,” he said.

“There was a conversation about a man they picked up,” she told him. “He seemed disoriented, didn’t know who was president, things like that. He was belligerent, so they arrested him.”

He listened and nodded while she spoke, but he didn’t quite connect the dots.

“Okay…?”

“We think it might be someone from camp. You know, over there?” she said. “Maybe someone we lost track of.”

He nodded. There were so many of them, it was impossible to keep tabs on who came and went. But, people were caught up. They knew where and when they were, how things worked over here.

“Everyone here’s pretty well oriented,” he said.

She shook her head.

“No… When we came through,” she clarified. “We had a few people we didn’t think made it, but…”

There was hope in her voice and it pained him.

“I was going to go check it out,” she said. “Just, see if it was someone we recognized.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Chloe.”

Chloe. Once he’d stopped thinking about it, he’d remembered.

“It’s just… everyone’s so antsy. Some people left friends over there. Family. If there’s any chance this could be somebody we left…”

Sam nodded, defeated. If it had been Dean over there he’d be chasing every lead.

“I get it,” he said. “Okay. What if I go check it out? See what I can find out.”

He didn’t like the idea of people going off on their own with everything up in the air.

“Really?” she asked.

Sam smiled.

“Yeah.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Five**

Castiel had spent the better part of the early morning in the archives looking through various tomes. While it was true there was a good deal of useful information in those books, truthfully it had only been part of the reason he’d been down there.

There was a lot happening in the bunker.

Castiel didn’t tire as easily as everyone else, but he still needed to regroup once in a while. A time-out, he thought it was called.

When he emerged, the main part of the bunker was full of people and conversation. He overheard snippets as he passed by.

“... tellin’ you, man, nothing’s gonna kill this guy…”

“I can’t believe all the reality TV up in this bitch.”

“Bacon? We have bacon, right?”

“Cas?”

He stopped when he heard his name. Mary smiled as she approached.

“Mary,” he greeted.

It was odd, Mary’s presence. Logically, he knew this. But, he didn’t find it as odd as he should have. Perhaps that was because of his own peculiar nature. In a way, he felt a sort of kinship with her. The two of them didn’t quite belong, and yet they did. 

“Find anything useful?” Mary asked.

He wasn’t sure what she meant until he realized she was looking at the armful of books he’d brought with him.

“Oh. Possibly,” he said. “Although, these might be more useful to someone well-versed in magic. It’s not my area of expertise.”

“Can I take a look?”

Castiel handed her the top book and she examined its cover. She flipped a few pages.

“Maybe Maggie,” she guessed.

“I’m not sure if Maggie’s ‘up’ for research at this time,” he said.

He wasn’t sure ‘up for’ was the correct term, so it came out clunky. But, Mary seemed to understand his meaning.

“Might do her some good to give her something to do,” Mary reasoned.

Her attention was drawn to something behind him. Castiel turned to see Sam pulling on a jacket. Mary walked over to him, handing the book back to Castiel.

“Sam?” she asked.

Sam stopped mid-stride and, for a brief moment, looked like he might be scolded.

“Hey,” he said.

His gaze moved to Castiel and he gave a nod. Castiel returned the same nod of greeting.

“Where’re you going?” Mary asked.

“Oh, uh… Sean and Chloe got the police scanner working. There’s someone down at the police station who’s acting strange. They, uh… They think it might be someone else. From over there.”

“How is that possible?” Castiel asked.

The portal had closed. No one else could get through.

“Not sure,” Sam said. “The running theory is that it’s someone who came over with us, but for some reason didn’t make it here. Maybe they were injured, or got separated from the group.”

He shrugged. 

“I told Chloe I’d go check it out.”

“I can go,” Mary said.

Sam looked surprised.

“I was going to grab some breakfast for everyone anyway,” Mary added. “I’ll swing by the police station on my way, see what I can find out.”

Sam seemed to debate it for a moment, then he nodded.

“Yeah. Okay,” he said. “Thanks.”

Mary smiled.

“Promise me you’ll try to sleep. Just for an hour, even.”

Sam smiled back and nodded.

“I’ll try. I promise.”

Sam started to turn away, then stopped to wrap Mary in a hug. She didn’t expect it, clearly, but she hugged him back.

“Thanks, Mom,” he said. “Really.”

He pulled away and looked genuinely relieved. Mary smiled.

“Any time,” she said.

Sam collected himself and gave Castiel another nod before walking away. Mary looked to Castiel.

“Run those books by Maggie. Jack, too. I’m sure he’d like to help.”

Castiel nodded. He hadn’t thought to give them to Jack. He was still getting used to Jack’s new role, one they hadn’t quite figured out yet.

“That’s a good idea,” he said.


	6. Chapter 6

**Six**

Mary didn’t mind the drive. It tended to get hectic at the bunker. Sometimes she needed a little space, some quiet, some classic rock on the radio. She drummed her fingers on the steering wheel as Creedence Clearwater filled the car.

She pulled into the police station, a badge tucked inside her jacket just in case. Detective Bonham out of Lawrence, Kansas. She had a pair of handcuffs on her belt. Just in case.

Mary wasn’t dressed like a detective. She wore a brown leather jacket over a button-down flannel and crisp blue jeans. Her boots clicked rhythmically on the floor as she entered the police station. 

Not a lot of activity. A typical small town operation. That would make things easier, she hoped.

She walked over to the desk in front of the door. A bored-looking officer sat filling out paperwork. He was portly and there was a stain on his shirt.

“Excuse me,” she said.

“Just a minute.”

Mary stood there awkwardly while he finished writing whatever it was he was writing. When he looked up he smiled pleasantly.

“Sorry about that. If I didn’t finish my thought it would’ve flown right outta my head. Now, what can I do for you?”

She smiled, encouraged by his attitude.

“Sorry to interrupt,” she said. “I heard you might have picked someone up late last night or early this morning on disorderly conduct?”

He nodded slowly.

“Might have,” he said.

Mary pulled the badge out of her pocket.

“Now might be a good time to introduce myself,” she said. “I’m Detective Joan Bonham, Lawrence P.D. We had a John Doe give us the slip yesterday and we think he might have ended up here.”

-

John lay flat on his back on a lumpy mattress staring at a concrete ceiling. He’d made it past the croats, past the demons, the angels. He’d found a door to another world he’d thought was a myth. He’d made his way through, only to wind up in the damn drunk tank.

He wanted to kick himself in the ass.

A door opened down the hall and he heard footsteps, jingling keys. He sat up in bed. He was the only one back there, so he figured they were coming to him.

“... real agitated,” a man was saying. “So we thought it best to keep him here a day or two, let him dry out.”

John rolled his eyes. How many times did he have to tell these assholes he wasn’t drunk?

“Good call,” a woman said.

A hefty officer approached the cell and gave a nod.

“Visitor for you,” he said.

But John had already seen her. He knew he’d seen her - _really_ seen her instead of only _thought_ he’d seen her - because his lungs stopped working. 

Mary.

It couldn’t be, but there she was. She’d cut her hair, but it was her. His wife who’d died years ago was staring right at him.

It had taken her a second or two to place him. He looked different. His hair was graying. He had the ghost of a salt and pepper beard. He was thin, almost gaunt. He looked rough.

But, it was John. 

She’d just seen him, in her sleep. Every morning she woke up thinking she’d just seen him, said goodnight to him, tucked their sons into bed. And every morning she woke up and lost him all over again. Lost all of them, really.

“Well? This your John?” the officer asked.

Mary looked over at him. She’d forgotten he was there, forgotten her whole pretense.

Bonham. Detective Bonham. Lawrence. Looking for a John Doe. Gave her the slip.

“Yeah,” she said. “Yeah, that’s him.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Seven**

It took Bobby a second to figure out how to answer the damn phone. These things they had over here - smartphones, the called them - he had no idea how to work them. They didn’t have buttons. Everything was a tap or a swipe.

“Son of a…” he muttered. “Hey, kid!”

It wasn’t until the boy turned around that he realized who it was. Immediately, he wished he hadn’t said anything. Jack seemed alright, but he still didn’t entirely trust him. As much as he wanted to. But, Jack gave him a bright smile and walked over and his momentary discomfort was forgotten.

“How the hell do I answer this thing?” Bobby asked.

Jack took the phone and read the screen, then slid his thumb across and handed it to Bobby.

“Here you go.”

Bobby stared at the phone like it was a foreign entity.

“Thanks,” he muttered.

He held the phone to his ear.

“Hello?”

A woman’s hushed voice came through and he had to strain to hear her over the constant noise in the bunker.

“Hang on a second. Louder than hell in here.”

He glared at a few people who happened to be in the room as he got up from his chair and headed down a hallway.

“Okay, I can hear you now,” he said.

“Bobby, it’s me.”

“Mary?”

“I need your help with something.”

“Uh, okay. What can I do for ya?”

“I need you to be my boss.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not actually sure if Apocalypse!Bobby would be baffled by smartphones, but I took a liberty.


	8. Chapter 8

**Eight**

Even with Bobby’s help, it took some time to get John out of the police station. All the while she kept looking at him and trying not to look at him. 

It couldn’t be him. How could it be him?

She was back. Why not John?

But, this wasn’t John. Not her John. Was it?

All the while, she plastered on a smile as she chatted with other officers, filled out paperwork, laughed at dumb jokes she barely heard.

Whenever she looked John’s way she caught him looking at her, too. He had the same look she imagined she did behind her adopted detective persona. Like he was looking at a ghost.

-

The walk from the police station to the car was the longest walk of John’s life. He’d swear to it. 

It was her. No doubt about it. He’d watched her work. A hunter’s con-job. 

This was a different world, he reminded himself. A world where, somehow, Mary was alive. And he needed to talk to her. It didn’t matter if she wasn’t his Mary. She was a welcome sight, the best thing he’d seen in years.

“Don’t walk so fast,” she whispered.

They’d been side by side, but he’d passed her at some point.

“You don’t want to look too eager to be in custody,” she reminded him.

His hands were cuffed behind his back. She was supposed to be taking him back to Lawrence. He’d picked up that much. John slowed his pace and Mary took him by the arm, leading him over to a car that made him look twice. Bright blue four-door Coupe. Newer looking, he guessed. There weren’t a lot of new-looking cars where he came from. He gave a low whistle.

“That sure as hell ain’t a cop car,” he observed.

“Nope,” she agreed. “So we need to get the hell out of here before someone else makes the same observation.”

Mary opened the back door and he let her guide him into the seat.

“You got enough leg room?” she asked.

“Oh, I got plenty,” he said.

“Good.”

She shut the door and in a moment she was in the driver’s seat starting the engine.

-

Mary’s heart was pounding as she pulled out of the police station. She forced her hunter brain to kick into gear despite her feelings. There were questions she needed answered before she could get too invested in whoever this was.

Shapeshifter. Chameleon. Doppelganger. Trickster. What else could it be? She was already thinking of the tests she’d need to perform and with what.

“We far off enough to have a conversation?” John asked.

Mary glanced at him in the rear-view mirror.

“Not quite,” she said.

That wasn’t true, but she needed to be sure he was who he seemed to be before she talked too extensively with him. 

And she needed to do it before she drove back to the bunker, her mind going to Sam and Dean.

Mary pulled down a side street and parked. She popped the trunk, where she had some basic supplies. She grabbed a silver dagger. That would rule out a shapeshifter. She hadn’t encountered any of the other three things, so the silver would have to do for now.

She opened the door to the back seat and stood aside so John could get out.

“Thank Christ. I lied about the leg room,” he quipped.

He seemed cheerful. Giddy, even. That was weird, right? 

Mary dug the small handcuff key out of her pocket.

“Turn around,” she said.

“Yes, ma’am.”

He smirked as he turned and she unlocked his handcuffs with shaky hands.

What if it wasn’t him? What would she do? Could she kill something that looked like him? Sounded like him? 

Mary tucked her handcuffs into her belt and he turned back around, grinning.

“Okay, I know this has to be…” he began. “You know me, right?”

“No,” she said. “I don’t know you. I knew someone who looked like you.”

Mary held up the knife.

“Give me your hand.”

John blinked at her, taken aback, but his grin widened and he held out his hand. He almost seemed happy to do it.

Mary held his hand in one of hers, knowing he’d be able to feel her shaking. She took a discreet deep breath, trying to prepare herself for disappointment. But, when she slid the blade across his palm nothing strange happened.

“Not a shapeshifter or a werewolf,” he said. “I’m also not a vampire, an angel, a demon, or a fae. But, I’ll take any test you want.”

Mary stared at him. He held out his hands.

“I got all day.”

-

Mary closed the trunk, her breathing uneven. Silver dagger. Iron blade. Holy water. Angel blade. None of it had any effect.

What if it _was_ him?

She hadn’t thought about what she’d do if it really was John. Some version of John.

He was leaning against the back door of the car, pressing gauze to his arm.

“Did I pass?” he asked. 

Mary regarded him warily.

“Yeah,” she said. “You passed.”

But, she folded her arms over her chest, a new set of questions needing answering.

“Where did you come from?” she asked. “How are you here?”

He took a second to form an answer.

“Okay. This is gonna sound crazy, but hear me out,” he said.

“Okay.”

“I’m… Not from here,” he said. “It’s a place kind of like here, but… well, awful.”

Mary frowned. It couldn’t be Michael’s world. John had died years ago over there.

“It’s… It’s so bad, I don’t even wanna describe it to you,” he said. “And I was stuck. I couldn’t… There was nothing I could do to fix it. Hell, I spent most of my time just trying not to die.”

“How’d you get out?” she asked.

That was important. Even in her current state of hopeful nervousness, she had to find out how he’d gotten there. If he’d done it, who else could do it? _What_ else?

“There were these rumors about… About doors,” he said. “Rips in the world that led to other places. It sounded far-fetched, but I had nothing else left. So, I figured the worst that could happen was I wouldn’t find one and I’d stay stuck. I never thought I’d really find one, that I’d get through.”

His voice broke then and he stepped toward her. She tensed and he stopped, his brows knit, his eyes brimming.

“Oh, God, Mary, I never thought I’d see you again.”

“It’s not me,” she said. “I mean… I’m not the same…”

He nodded.

“I know. I know that,” he said. “Doesn’t matter. You’re the best thing I’ve seen in as long as I can remember.”

She let herself smile. For a moment, she let herself hear her husband pay her a compliment.

“You wanna get breakfast?” she asked.

He blinked, thrown. She nodded to the car.

“We have a lot to talk about, and I’m supposed to be getting breakfast for an army.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't find the kind of car Mary drove anywhere, so I found one I could picture her driving. I took a liberty.


	9. Chapter 9

**Nine**

Castiel watched Jack as he read, concentrating, his face solemn. Was it helping? He couldn't tell. 

His cell phone rang and he pulled it out of his pocket. He frowned at Mary's name on the screen and he answered.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Cas.”

She sounded tired.

“Is everything alright?” he asked.

She paused long enough to make him think everything was not alright. 

“What is it?” Jack asked.

He'd stopped reading and all his attention was on Castiel. 

“I need you to meet me at Flo's Diner,” Mary said. “Alone. Do not bring anyone else.”

Castiel stood from his chair. 

“Should I… Are you in trouble?”

He'd tried to drop his voice, but he saw Jack straighten out of the corner of his eye.

“No,” she said. “I just… I need you to check something out for me. But, Cas, it's very important you come alone.”

Castiel didn't like this.

“Alright. I will,” he said.

“Thanks. You'll understand when you get here.”

When he ended the call Jack was standing next to him.

“What's wrong?” he asked. “Did something happen?”

Castiel stared down at the phone, like it would provide some clue.

“I don't know,” he said. “I have to go.”

He pocketed his cell phone.

“What? Where?” Jack asked. 

“A diner. Nowhere special.”

Jack followed him across the archive room.

“I'll go with you.”

“No. I have to go alone.”

“Why?”

Castiel stopped and sighed, turning to face him.

“Because I was asked to come alone.”

“But, it could be a trap,” Jack said.

“I highly doubt it.”

“Since when is a mysterious phone call instructing someone to arrive somewhere alone not likely to be a trap?”

Castiel studied him. He’d been observing and studying things from everywhere, including television, books, and movies. Castiel imagined he’d seen a number of films or TV episodes in which a well-meaning hero ventured into a trap. However, Castiel couldn’t blame him in this instance. Castiel felt uneasy as well.


	10. Chapter 10

**Ten**

John sat in a diner booth staring at a menu. Mary had gone to the bathroom. He guessed it was a good sign that she trusted him not to run off. Then again, she could’ve been calling in the cavalry.

He knew he should be concerned about that, but he was sitting at a diner where he could smell coffee and bacon and pancakes, and he was about to have breakfast with his long-dead wife.

Maybe he hadn’t made it through that tear. Maybe he’d gotten taken out by one of those croats and now he was in Heaven, or something like it.

Mary came back and sat down across from him.

“They take your order yet?” she asked.

“Nope.”

She picked up her own menu and examined it. John just stared at her. He didn’t care if he was being rude or inappropriate. He just wanted to look at her.

Mary glanced up from behind her menu.

“What’s up, John?” she asked.

He smiled.

“Nothing,” he said. “I’m just… happy to be here. I’m happy to be where I’m at.”

He didn’t really care what this world had going on. It was already a million times better than his own. He was just hanging onto that for the moment.

Mary could feel him looking at her, and it made her nervous. She was grateful when a tall, blond server approached their table with a smile.

“Good morning. I’m Holly. I’ll be taking care of you today. Can I start you off with something to drink?”

“Coffee, please,” Mary said.

Holly jotted a note on her pad and looked to John.

“And for you, sir?”

“Coffee sounds amazing. Thank you.”

“Our special this morning is New England pumpkin pancakes with almond butter and apples or bananas,” Holly rattled off. “I’ll give you guys a few minutes to look those menus over and I’ll get your coffee right over to you.”

She walked away and Mary stared at her menu, but she couldn’t focus on it. Okay. She just needed a second. Needed to breathe, collect her thoughts.

“Can I ask you a question?” John asked.

She made herself look at him.

“I think I already know the answer,” he said. “But I need to ask anyway.”

Mary put down her menu and sighed.

“Okay. Go ahead.”

“I’m not around over here, am I?” he asked.

Hearing him say it quietly, just for her to hear, made her feel, for a second, like he was her husband. The same man who had once leaned over a diner counter just like this one and said “So, do you think I could give you a call sometime? Take you out on a real date?” Mary brought herself back to the present, where the same eyes stared back at her, waiting for an answer.

“No,” she said. 

John nodded, not surprised.

“The way you looked at me back at the station,” he said. “Must’ve been the same way I was looking at you. Like seein’ a ghost.”

Mary barely had time to process what he'd said.

Holly returned, setting a cup of coffee in front of each of them along with a little bowl of creamer and a caddy of sugars and sweeteners.

“Do y’all know what you’d like to order?” she asked.

Mary kept her gaze on John’s.

“I’m good,” he said. “What about you?”

Mary nodded and turned her attention to Holly with a smile.

“Yes, I’d like steak and eggs, please. Rare. Practically mooing, if you can manage it.”

“Okay. That comes with a side of bacon, ham, or sausage.”

“Bacon,” she said.

“Alright, and for you, sir?”

John folded his menu and smiled at the server.

“I’m gonna have the Flo Special.”

“Okay. How would you like your eggs?”

“Scrambled, please.”

“Would you like a side of bacon, ham, or sausage?”

“Sausage.”

“And that comes with either two slices of French toast or a short stack of pancakes.”

“I’m gonna go with the pancakes.”

“Alright. Anything else I can get for you?”

Mary took John’s menu and hers to hand them over.

“Not for now, but I do have a pretty large to-go order I’d like to put in. I have an army of people back home.”

“Sure.”

Mary pulled a folded piece of paper out of her jeans pocket and handed it to her.

“If you call that number there, someone will pay you by credit card,” she said.

She didn’t have enough cash on her for the whole order. Dean said he’d take care of it.

“Alright, can do,” Holly said.

“Thanks.”

Mary watched Holly leave. When she turned back to John he was looking at her.

“An army of people, huh?” he asked.

“Oh, yeah,” she said. 

The interruption from Holly had given her a second to get her head together.

“Listen, John. Before we get too far into anything, there are some things I need to be sure of.”

John nodded.

“Okay.”

He grabbed two sugar packets out of the caddy and a few creamers out of the bowl. He’d learned to take his coffee black when sugar, milk, and cream got scarce. It would be wasteful not to use them now.

“The place you came from,” Mary said. “What was it like?”

John sat back in his seat. It was the question he knew he’d have to answer, but he’d been dreading it all the same.

“Shit, where do I start?” he muttered. “Well, there was… I can’t call it anything but an apocalypse about eight or nine years ago.”

Mary frowned, trying to reconcile the timeline with what she knew about this world’s.

“What happened?” she asked.

John stared at her, maybe not sure how she’d take whatever he said next.

“Lucifer happened,” he said.

An icy chill went down her spine. Lucifer. One world had Michael, another had Lucifer.


	11. Chapter 11

**Eleven**

John scrubbed a hand over his brow. The rest of this was going to be hard for her to hear, and hard for him to say.

“Sam,” he said. “He, uh… Well, I don’t know what happened over here, but over there he was… Different. _Special_.”

He spat the word ‘special’ because it wasn’t his word. It was Lucifer’s. Azazel’s, the yellow-eyed bastard.

“How?” Mary asked. “Different how?”

John looked at her and she was looking back at him with rapt attention.

“Psychic,” John said. “He had these powers, these things he could do. Mary, I’d never seen anything like it before. I mean, once he got going, my God.”

He shook his head, remembering back. It had made him uneasy at first, Sam’s ability. Caught them all by surprise. 

“It started after Jessica,” he said. “Jessica was his…”

“Fiance,” Mary finished.

John nodded. So there was a Jessica here, too.

“Jessica,” he continued. “Man, that girl was funny. She could really make him laugh. I mean _real_ belly-laughing.”

He remembered sitting around a table with Mary, Sam, Dean, and Jessica. Playing poker or eating dinner. There had been a lot of nights like that. After a few beers they’d all be laughing and Jessica would lean in and just whisper something to Sam, something just for him, and he’d damn near double over. He was such a serious guy, he’d always been a serious kind of kid. John had never seen him laugh like that, and he hadn’t seen it since.

John cleared his throat, choking up at the memory. 

“She was killed,” he said. “By this demon, Azazel.”

“Yellow-Eyes,” she said.

John looked at her like he had the first time she’d said the phrase to him. They hadn’t called it Azazel then. He nodded.

“Pinned her to the ceiling and burned her to death,” John said. “Sammy, he saw the whole thing.”

“Jesus,” Mary muttered.

She’d heard about what happened to Jessica. She’d experienced it herself, apparently, though she didn’t remember it. Horrific was the only word for it.

“After that, he was obsessed,” John said. “Determined to find out what happened to her. Can’t say I blame him. I’d be the same way.”

Mary nodded.

“You would,” she agreed.

John studied her. There was a story there, but she didn’t elaborate. So, he continued.

“That’s when you told us,” John said. 

Mary straightened in surprise. She’d been alive over there.

“It was after the funeral,” he continued. “We were all back at the house, still in our suits, ties all undone. You were still wearing that little black dress you kept in the back of the closet. We were drinking beers, real quiet. And you just… You told us. It was a demon. One with yellow eyes. You’d made a deal with him years ago, you said. You told us monsters were real, that you were a hunter, your daddy was a hunter. The whole thing.”

John took a deep breath and let it out.

“Oh, was that a bad night,” he muttered.

It had been a fight. A big one. Not just with him. Sam had been heartbroken all over again, betrayed. He’d yelled like John never heard him yell. All “How could you do this?” and “It’s your fault she died.” Then John had yelled at him - “Don’t talk to your mother like that!” - except John had yelled at her, too, a few hours later. Dean, he’d just been quiet. Real quiet, somber. And before he left he’d said something really quiet to Mary, something he hadn’t heard at the time. She’d told him later, in the wee hours after they were done screaming at each other. I hate you. Dean had told her ‘I hate you.’ 

“Anyway,” he said. “That was around when it started. Hunting. ‘The family business,’ Dean called it. You taught us everything you knew. Demons, werewolves, vampires. Salt, sulfur. Hell, we couldn’t keep up with you, Mare.”

He chuckled fondly, running a hand through his hair.

Mary smiled a little at how proud he sounded.

“You had journals,” John said. “Kept ‘em your whole life. Dean, he took to everything like a duck to water. Scary, really. Kid probably should’ve been in the service. Built for combat, that one.”

Mary had her coffee cup in her hands, but she hadn’t taken a sip. The warmth seeped into her skin and helped soothe her as she listened. He’d taken to it like a duck to water, even there, a world away. Her eldest son, who could clean a gun faster than anyone she’d ever seen, who polished his blades every night and hung them with care above his bed like other men hung Christmas stockings for sleeping children. Built for combat.

“And Sam?” she asked.

John rubbed his stubble.

“Sammy. He didn’t take to it the same way,” he said. “I mean, not for lack of tryin’. He was determined, stubborn as Hell. He wanted to find the thing that killed Jessica, that was for damn sure. But, the life? The day-to-day, the grit and blood of all of it. That was hard on him, I think.”

Truthfully, John couldn’t say for sure. He and Dean had jumped in with both feet, fallen in line with Mary. They’d bonded the same way they’d bonded over fixing cars and watching football. With Sam, though, he and John had never really had that. Sam would sit in the living room while John and Dean watched the game. He’d be there with them, but he’d have a book open in his lap. He’d be drinking iced tea while they drank soda, and later beer. He’d mow the lawn while John and Dean blared AC/DC and worked on the Impala. 

He guessed Sam was always meant to go his own way.


	12. Chapter 12

**Twelve**

“Alright, Flo’s special,” Holly said.

She set the plate down in front of John and he forced a polite smile.

“Thank you, darlin’.”

Holly gave him a warm smile and set another plate in front of Mary. 

“Steak and eggs. Let me know if that’s rare enough for you.”

“Thanks,” Mary said.

“Anything else you need?” Holly asked.

“We’re fine, thank you,” Mary said.

She was eager to hear the rest of John’s tale. Holly nodded.

“Alright, enjoy. Let me know if you need anything.”

John shoveled a forkful of eggs into his mouth. They were a little too hot, but he didn’t care. Too hot! His meals had mostly consisted of whatever he salvaged from abandoned homes. Canned beans, cold canned soup the consistency of snot. 

“I can’t remember the last time I had a hot breakfast,” he said.

Mary smiled and sipped her coffee, letting him take what was probably a much-needed break. She cut a sliver of steak and took a bite of her own breakfast. 

“I guess things are in rough shape over there,” Mary said.

He nodded, chewing.

“About as rough as you could imagine,” he said.

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” she told him. “I might be able to give you a run for your money on that one.”

She thought of Michael’s world, the torture she’d experienced, the death she’d seen. John swallowed his food and picked up his coffee.

“Be hard to do,” he warned.

After a few more bites he prepared to dive back into his story.

“Alright, where was I?” he muttered. 

He snapped his fingers before Mary could remind him.

“Sam,” he said. 

He remembered standing side-by-side with Dean, each of them firing handguns at glass bottles. John knew how to fire a gun, and Dean picked it up with alarming speed. Sam struggled. He remembered Mary standing with him off to the side, showing him how to hold his arms, how to squeeze the trigger. It had almost been funny, Sam’s tall frame hunched over to listen to her quiet instruction. He hadn’t taken it at first, his small way of rebelling. But she’d been patient, outwaited him. 

“He took some time to take to it,” John said. “Firing a gun, swinging a machete. Had the physicality for it, sure. Big, solid guy. But, he’d never been a fighter. All his life he’d been the mediator, the peacekeeper. I don’t know, maybe that’s why the visions started.”

“Visions?” Mary asked.

John nodded.

“Dreams, he thought, at first,” he said. “He’d pick up the newspaper and go real still, start breathing all uneven. Then he’d point out an article about somebody dying three states away, say he’d seen it in a dream. Only had to happen one other time for us to start paying attention. Dean, he didn’t want anything to do with it. Thought it was a curse. You agreed, to some extent. Thought Sam should be careful. But, Sam, he was so glad to have something, you know? Something to contribute. I had my military training. Dean had his marksmanship. You had your whole package and the kind of knowledge it took decades to build. Until then, all Sam had was his stubborn determination to see this thing through. So, when these visions started, they were his way in, his skill. So, I backed him on it. Surprised the hell out of him. Dean, too. But, I could see the kid was struggling. Still grieving, trying to wrap his head around this new life he didn’t feel like he belonged in. He needed someone to believe in him, someone to trust him.”

“So it was me and Dean versus you and Sam,” Mary concluded.

John nodded.

“Yeah. That caused a little tension there,” he said. “Not a lot, not enough to break up the family or anything. But, every time Sam came up with a lead from one of these visions I’d say ‘Good work, kid,’ and you and Dean would look at each other with this unspoken thing, this uneasiness. Dean would take Sam aside, they’d have an argument. Dean would storm out, come back in the middle of the night piss-drunk.”

Mary laughed a little at the image of Dean hobbling up the stairs of their old house, or struggling with a key in a motel room door. 

“Anyway,” John said. “That was how it started, with the visions. Then, other things started. Telekinesis. Scared the shit out of him the first time he did it, I guess. I wasn’t there for it. Him and Dean had gone to check out a lead they thought would be a bust, and it turned out to be legit. Dean said Sam knocked a black-eyed demon clear across the room just by looking at it. Sam said it wasn’t quite like that, that he’d been pinned behind a dresser, pinned against a wall, and he’d been trying to push the dresser off. Then he turned to the demon instead and ended up TK’ing her across the room.”

John remembered the look on Dean's face when he told him over a beer, the two of them leaning their backsides against the hood of the Impala. “I don't know, Dad,” he'd said. “This path Sam's going down… I don't see how that goes anywhere good.” John had said “Your brother's a good man. He'll do the right thing. He'll always do the right thing.”

He still didn't know if he'd been right or wrong about that.

“Then there was this woman,” John continued. “We _thought_ she was a woman. Saved Sam's ass, ganked a bunch of demons with this crazy knife. Impressed the hell out of him. He took her for a hunter. Turned out she was a demon named Ruby. A damn crafty one, too. But, even after we found that out, Sam still saw something in her. I don't know. But, that put a real wedge between him and all of us. I mean, trusting a demon? Even I couldn't get on board with that.”

Mary nodded slowly. She’d heard a bit about Ruby. Mary had cleaned her plate and her coffee was half finished. John had eaten half his breakfast as he talked, but he set his fork down now.

“So, Sam went his own way for a while. Next time we saw him he was like some kind of superhero. Exorcising demons from across the room, killing angels with a touch, healing his own wounds before his blood hit the floor. I mean, I was in awe of what he could do. But, what scared me was who he was doing it with. I mean, this wasn't something he was doing alongside us. I don't think we ever would have let him go that far with it. He was doing this because of her. This demon. She got inside his head, and that sure as hell wasn’t a good thing. You and Dean had it right from the jump. Took me a little while to catch up. Maybe if I'd understood sooner…”

He sighed. 

“I don't know.”

Mary's hand was resting on his. She didn't know when she'd done it. He hadn't seemed to notice.

“It wouldn't have mattered,” she said.

John looked at her, a hundred and one questions behind his eyes. Holly approached the table.

“Excuse me. Sorry,” she said. “Were you expecting two more?”

Mary frowned, her heart in her throat. No. He wouldn't have sent them. Not her boys.


	13. Chapter 13

**Thirteen**

Castiel followed Holly, Jack trailing curiously behind them. Mary was briefly relieved, but frustration was right on its heels. 

“Damn it, Cas,” she muttered.

Holly looked between the table and Castiel, uncertain. Castiel knew Mary wouldn't be happy to see Jack, but leaving him behind would have caused more complications, raised more questions, than bringing him along. Castiel had weighed both options carefully. 

“Yeah, Holly. It's fine,” Mary said. 

Castiel spotted the man across from her and blinked.

“John.”

John Winchester sat back in the booth, regarding Castiel with cool interest. 

“We know each other?” John asked.

Mary looked at him with a slight frown.

“You don’t know Castiel?”

John shook his head.

“No.”

He looked around.

“Should I?”

Jack watched this unfold, confused. He sensed this was strange. Awkward. Yes, that was a better word for how this felt. Mary seemed unhappy. The man with her - John. Castiel called him John. - He seemed confused, like Jack.

Perhaps that was why Jack felt drawn to him.

He smiled and held out a hand.

“Hi. I’m Jack.”

Castiel and Mary both stared at him, like what he’d done was out of place. But, John smiled and gave him a warm, strong handshake.

“Hi, Jack. I’m John. Good to meet you.”

“Um… Why don’t you both… sit down?” Mary stammered.

They were attracting attention from the other patrons. 

She and John both slid over. Castiel regarded John with something like suspicion, but Jack couldn’t imagine why. When Castiel didn’t move, Jack sat down next to John.

“Cas,” Mary urged.

Castiel turned his gaze to Mary. His expression softened and he sat down beside Mary, across from Jack.

Holly looked at each of them.

“Do you want anything to drink?” she asked. “Should I grab you some menus?”

“No, that won’t be necessary,” Castiel said.

Jack frowned at him.

“Why not?”

Castiel sighed, trying not to feel irritated. Mary smiled.

“What would you like, Jack?”

She’d become fond of Jack. He was almost like one of her sons. It was easy for people to lose patience with him, to forget how childlike he was.

Jack beamed and turned to the server.

“Pancakes?” he asked. 

Holly smiled.

“You got it. Anything to drink?”

Jack thought about it.

“Juice. Orange juice,” he said.

Holly jotted it down and looked to Castiel.

“Anything for you, sir?”

Castiel didn’t want anything, but he didn’t want to look out of place.

“Water,” he said. “Just water for me.”

“Coming right up,” Holly said.

She stepped away and silence fell over the table. Mary cleared her throat.

“John, this is Castiel,” she said. “He’s, um…”

She lowered her voice.

“He’s an angel.”

John straightened in surprise. For a moment, he looked almost hostile. Then his expression softened.

“An angel? Wow. Can’t say I’ve ever met an angel that, uh… didn’t try to kill me.”

“John’s from somewhere else,” Mary clarified. “Not Michael’s world. Some other place. He says he came through a rip in the world, a door.”

Jack looked at John with great interest. Castiel shifted uneasily in his seat.

“I did every test I could think of,” Mary said. “Silver, holy water, iron, angel blade. Everything… checked out.”

She turned to Castiel.

“But, I… I wanted to be sure,” she said.

When Mary had called Castiel, she hadn’t known if John was really John. She believed him now, and she almost regretted calling Castiel. If she learned now that he was some imposter, some monster walking around in her late husband’s skin…

Castiel nodded.

“I see.”

Of course, Mary would need to know if this was really John.

“I’m confused,” Jack said.

He looked from Castiel to Mary uncertainly.

“Sure of what?”

“Sure that I am who I’m supposed to be,” John said.

Mary looked at him apologetically.

“I called him before we talked,” she said.

John smiled.

“That’s okay. You can never be too careful.”

Castiel looked at Mary.

“You want me to… read him,” he concluded.

“Not extensively,” Mary told him. “Just enough to… to make sure it’s him.”

She didn’t want Castiel to dig too deeply, like he would with an interrogation. 

John looked from Mary to Castiel.

“Not that I’m not all about proving my identity to all you folks, but what the hell are we talking about, here?”

Castiel leaned forward, resting his hands on the table.

“It’s a… process,” he began. “I can read… sense… your… soul, your mind.”

He was having trouble explaining. Perhaps because he was uneasy talking to whoever this was. 

“It can be… uncomfortable. Some would say invasive,” he said.

“Fantastic,” John muttered.

“It’s just… a formality,” Mary offered. “So there’s no doubt. From anybody.”

It wasn’t just her she was thinking of. She couldn’t just be sure for herself. She needed to be sure for Sam and Dean, for all the people back at the bunker. That was a lot. She needed more than her gut, than his stories.

John understood the subtext. This Mary had the same body language as his Mary, the same expressions, same tells. She believed him, but other people would need more convincing. 

Holly returned to the table with juice for Jack and water for Castiel. 

“Pancakes will be out in a minute,” she said.

Jack smiled gleefully. Holly looked around the table.

“Anybody else need anything? Can I get you refills on those coffees?”

“Yes, please,” Mary said. “John?”

“Yeah. Thanks.”

Holly bustled away. No one said anything. Jack wasn’t sure why. Was it because Holly would be right back? 

“I’m confused,” Jack said.

Castiel, Mary, and John all looked at him. Suddenly he felt nervous. He looked at John because he had the warmest expression of the three. 

“Why do you have to prove you’re you?”

John glanced at the others. He didn’t know what to make of this kid. A little touched, maybe. 

“‘Cause I’m not supposed to be here,” John said.

Mary leaned forward to talk quietly to Jack. 

“Jack, John was… is…”

She hadn’t planned on having to explain to anyone. Castiel cleared his throat.

“Jack, this is John Winchester. He’s Sam and Dean’s father. Or… a version of him.”

Jack wrapped his head around that as Holly poured coffee for John and Mary. He understood about doubles. Charlie and Bobby used to be here, in this world, before they died. But, they were still alive on Michael’s side. And Kevin. Kevin had a double, but he’d died both places. John had died on Michael’s side, a long time ago. And he’d died over here, too, not as long ago. So, how was John here at all? That must have been what everyone was wondering.

That was why he had to prove he was who he was. Because it didn’t make any sense.

John leaned forward to talk to Castiel.

“So, this… process. Catch me up, here. How’s it work?”

Castiel regarded John, trying to gauge him.

“It’s, uh… simple. Technically speaking,” he said. “I would place my hand on your head and get a sense of what’s in your mind, of who you are.”

“You’d read my mind?” John asked. “Is that what you’re saying?”

He was a simple guy. He liked simple answers. 

“Yes… and a little more.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

Castiel didn’t know how to explain it. 

“A person is made up of more than thoughts,” he said simply. 

Holly brought Jack his pancakes.


	14. Chapter 14

**Fourteen**

It was better done in private, Castiel had said. So, John sat in the passenger seat of Mary’s car while Castiel climbed into the driver’s seat. 

Castiel studied John. He only knew John - this world’s John - through observation. He didn’t know the man in front of him at all. He seemed genuine enough, from what he’d seen so far.

“So, what, you just lay hands on me and we get this done?” John asked.

Castiel turned slightly to face him better. It was awkward to do in the car.

“Um… Yes, basically,” he replied. “I’ll put my hand on your head and… extract what I need. It’ll feel… uncomfortable.”

Castiel wasn’t sure how uncomfortable it would be. He usually only did this as a last resort. He supposed that was what it was in this case, as well. 

John took a breath and let it out.

“Alright. Let’s get this over with.”

He imagined ‘uncomfortable’ really meant ‘painful.’ 

Castiel gave a nod.

“Alright. Hold still. It won’t take long.”

Castiel held his hand over John’s head.

“Ready?”

John looked at him.

“Go ahead.”

Castiel placed his hand on John’s forehead, and pulled.

-

_“I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride.”_

_A young, smiling Mary beamed up at John._

\---

_“Alright, try it again, Dean,” John called._

_A teenage Dean sat in the driver’s seat of the Impala and turned the key in the ignition while John stood in front of the popped hood._

\---

_“That’s great, Sam. She’s a great girl,” John said._

_He clapped Sam on the shoulder and Sam smiled sheepishly._

\---

_“Our whole LIFE, Mary. Jesus, our whole goddamn life is a lie. I can’t believe you never told me, that you dragged us into this and we never even knew…”_

\---

_“Dean? DEAN!”_

_John rammed his shoulder against a set of double doors until they splintered._

_He fell to his knees beside Dean’s lifeless body, blood pooling beneath him._

\---

_Sam paced the floor of a stage, hastily erected. A tent covered the stage and there were folding chairs set up in rows._

_He was wearing a suit._

_He wasn’t Sam. John couldn’t see, but Castiel could. The face behind Sam’s face._

_Lucifer._

-

John was gritting his teeth and he let out a groan as pain creeped through his head.

Castiel withdrew his hand. It had been maybe five seconds, but he’d seen more than enough. John rubbed his head.

“Wow, you weren’t kidding. Uncomfortable my ass,” he muttered.

He turned to Castiel, who was looking at him with wide eyes.

“Well? Did you get what you needed?” John asked.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay in updating. I'm having a rough patch at the moment, so will be slow for a bit. I am continuing to write this fic, so fear not! Just have patience. Kind words are appreciated a little bit extra right now because I'm just a puddle of raw emotion for personal reasons.

**Fifteen**

Jack was almost done with his pancakes. Mary watched him cut into them with his fork, sopping up syrup. She kept looking out the nearest window, just for a distraction.

What if it wasn’t him?

What if it was?

Her mind followed both scenarios at once, coming up with plans and back-up plans. 

It’d be silver if he was a shapeshifter. A machete if he was anything else. Decapitation tended to kill anything, or at least slow it down. 

“I wonder where it came from,” Jack said.

It was an idle thought he hadn’t meant to say out loud. Mary turned to him.

“What?”

Jack looked at her, setting down his fork.

“The door John came through,” he said.

Mary nodded.

“I was wondering the same thing,” she said.

She finished her coffee. 

Castiel returned and Mary straightened. John wasn’t with him. Why wasn’t John with him? He gave a nod before he even got to the table and she felt a sense of relief.

“Stay here, Jack,” she said.

Jack nodded, having no interest in leaving his pancakes.

Mary met Castiel halfway between the door and the table.

“Well? What’s the verdict?” she asked.

Her anxiety came out in her voice despite her best efforts.

“It’s him,” Castiel confirmed. “Or, a version of him.”

Mary nodded. Part of her wasn’t surprised, but part of her was.

“Well, that’s settled.”

She tried to sound casual, but didn’t quite make it.

“Mary, this is… The world he came from, it’s…”

He struggled trying to say what he wanted without saying something alarming.

“What?” she asked.

Castiel shook his head.

“It’s not good.”

“It can’t be worse than Michael’s world,” she reasoned.

Castiel gave her a leveling look and her heart sank. Mary frowned and looked around.

“Where is he?”

“In your car,” Castiel said. “He said he needed a moment. The extraction can be… painful.”

“But he’s… He’s okay, isn’t he? I mean, he seems okay,” she stammered.

Castiel considered how to answer that.

“That’s too simple a question,” he said.

Mary’s brows creased and her jaw set. She had an expression Castiel had seen on Dean many times, one of frustrated determination.

“What the hell does that mean?” she demanded.

“It means he’s fine, physically. He did have a wound he was concerned about. I took care of that.”

“And mentally?” she asked.

Though she thought she already knew the answer.

“That’s… less clear,” Castiel told her.

“Well, is he dangerous? Unstable?” 

“I have no reason to believe that. But… Mary, I’m not sure how he’ll react to… everyone. The bunker, Sam and Dean, the war with Michael. It might be… a bit much for him to take in right now.”

Mary nodded.

“He might be a bit much for everyone else, too,” she reasoned.

Castiel nodded.

“I’m of a similar mind,” he agreed.

Mary sighed heavily, her brain working fast.

“Okay. Cas, I need you to keep this quiet. Both of you.”

She nodded her head toward Jack at the table.

Castiel looked over at Jack. That could be a problem, but he nodded.

“Just until we figure out… what to do with him,” Mary finished.

“I’ll do my best,” Castiel said. “But, I don’t know how long we’ll be able to keep this to ourselves.”

Jack was trying to be a good person. He didn’t like to lie. 

“Just do your best. With Sam and Dean in particular,” Mary said. “I’m hoping I’ll just need a day or two.”

She had so much to tell John, so much to ask. 

“Where will you take him?” Castiel asked.

“There’s a motel the next town over. We should be able to lie low there.”

Castiel nodded. He didn’t like this, but he understood it. 

Jack watched Castiel talk with Mary until they came back to the table.

“How did it go?” he asked.

“It was successful,” Castiel said. “He is John Winchester. Another world’s John Winchester.”

Jack grinned at the idea of Sam and Dean having their mother AND their father back.

“That’s great!”

But, neither of them smiled.

“Isn’t it?” he asked.

Mary gave him a faint smile.

“Yes,” she said. “But, it’s also complicated.”

He frowned, trying to puzzle that out.

“What happens now?” Jack asked. “Is he coming back with us?”

“No.”

Castiel and Mary both said it at the same time, and Jack looked at each of them in alarm. Mary smiled warmly at him.

“Not yet, Jack,” she said. “There are things John and I need to talk about, to figure out why he’s here and what it means.”

Jack nodded slowly, though he only partly understood.

“Jack,” Mary said. “It’s very important, for now, that you don’t tell anyone about John being here.”

Jack frowned at her, realizing immediately that would mean lying to Sam and Dean, to Maggie, who he was starting to become friends with.

“Why?” he asked.

“People won’t understand,” Mary said. “They’ll have questions. Questions we can’t answer yet.”

Castiel put a hand on Jack’s shoulder to get his attention.

“Jack. Do you remember when you visited Kelly’s parents - your grandparents?”

Castiel saw something click behind Jack’s eyes, but he had to be sure he understood.

“You wanted to tell them who you were, the truth,” he continued. “But you knew it would be unkind to do that, that it would hurt them.”

Jack nodded emphatically.

“Yes,” he said.

“This is something very much like that,” Castiel said. “People will be frightened by this at first. They won’t understand. Mary and I need time to figure out what to do next. So we can tell everyone at the right time, in the right way.”

Mary appreciated Castiel in that moment. She’d put a lot of trust in him, and she was glad she had. 

“Do you understand, Jack?” she asked. “It’s just for a little while. Not forever.”

Jack nodded.

“Yes. I understand.”

She smiled.

“Good. Now, I need you both to do me one more favor.”


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This story takes place after episode 14.02 “Gods and Monsters.”
> 
> The arrival of John Winchester raises many questions, and gives us a glimpse into a world in which a few vital moments went a different way.
> 
> Notes: This piece is being crossposted on my Tumblr: http://dingoes8myrp.tumblr.com/post/182619495162/supernatural-the-man-with-no-name-chapter-16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for being patient with my slowness. I tend to hibernate in winter.

**Sixteen**

The entire car smelled like bacon and sausage. Jack was quiet while Castiel drove. He idly thought they’d need to teach Jack to drive someday soon. Castiel didn’t think of himself as the best driver. Dean was probably the best of all of them, at least as far as evasive driving went. But, Dean wasn’t the most patient person, particularly concerning Jack. Their personalities never really went well together, despite their best efforts. Maybe Sam could do it. He was patient, took the time to explain things without getting frustrated. But, Sam had a lot on his plate already.

“Castiel?”

Castiel glanced at Jack in the passenger seat. He had a big stack of to-go boxes on his lap.

“Yes, Jack?”

Castiel braced himself for a difficult question.

“If John came back, and Mary, and Bobby, and Charlie, and Michael,” Jack began. “Couldn’t my mother come back, too?”

Castiel felt a twinge of sadness for him. 

“I don’t know, Jack.”

Jack frowned. He couldn’t figure out how all this worked. 

“I don’t understand,” he said. “How some people come back over and over again, and other people have all these other lives, other selves. And then other people just… die. They die too fast and it’s not their fault and it’s not fair.”

He whacked the dashboard in a surge of anger and Castiel jumped.

“Jack!”

Jack blinked, seeing the crack in the dashboard and realizing only then that he’d caused it. He looked down at his hand. 

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to…”

“I know,” Castiel said. “I know you didn’t.”

Castiel sighed. He understood Jack’s anger, his sadness. Unfortunately, he didn’t have an answer to that particular question.

“I don’t have an answer for you, Jack. I’m sorry for that. And I’m sorry your mother isn’t here to see the person you’re becoming. Because you are a good person, Jack.”

Jack looked over at him, his eyes shining.


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This story takes place after episode 14.02 “Gods and Monsters.”
> 
> The arrival of John Winchester raises many questions, and gives us a glimpse into a world in which a few vital moments went a different way.
> 
> Notes: This piece is being crossposted on my Tumblr: http://dingoes8myrp.tumblr.com/post/182619952967/supernatural-the-man-with-no-name-chapter-17

**Seventeen**

Dean crossed the bunker to the door just as a determined knocking started. Dean waved a hand at the concerned looks he got.

“Relax. Food’s here.”

Jack had texted from the car.

Dean opened the door to come face to face with a stack of take-out containers.

“Woah.”

He took a few off the top to reveal Jack’s face.

“Thanks,” Jack said.

For a second, Jack almost looked alarmed. But, he was moving past Dean to the main part of the bunker. Castiel walked in carrying several bags.

“Wow. Mom wasn’t kidding about getting everybody breakfast,” Dean muttered.

He looked around for Mary as Castiel came in the door.

“Where’s Mom?”

He closed the door and grabbed a few bags from Castiel.

“She’s still looking into that John Doe at the police station,” Castiel said.

“The what?” Dean asked.

He followed Cas to the main part of the bunker, where they started setting down bags and removing Sharpied take-out containers.

“Sam didn’t tell you?” Castiel asked.

“Tell me what?” Dean muttered.

They were interrupted by the brief feeding frenzy as everyone searched for their boxes. Dean grabbed his own and Sam’s before leaving everyone to it. 

-

Sam woke abruptly to a sharp knock on his door. 

“Sammy!”

Dean’s voice made Sam sit up, squinting, his vision still cloudy with sleep.

“Dean?” he called.

“You decent?”

Sam sat up.

“What?”

Dean opened Sam’s bedroom door and strolled in carrying a styrofoam container.

Why did restaurants still use those? Non-biodegradable. Potentially cancer-causing.

“Breakfast,” Dean said.

He set the container down on Sam’s bedside table.

“Oh. Thanks,” Sam muttered.

He looked around for his phone, patted his jeans pocket and found it there. He hadn’t even pulled off his shoes, emptied his pockets. He’d just fallen onto the bed and crashed.

“Cas says Mom’s looking into some John Doe?” Dean said. “What’s that about?”

“Oh,” Sam said. “Yeah.”

He ran a hand over his face, trying to come back to the waking world.

“Sean and Chloe got the police scanner working. Heard about a John Doe they brought to the police station.”

“Yeah? So?”

“So, they thought it might be someone from Apocalypse World,” Sam said. “Someone who made it through the portal, but didn’t make it back here.”

Dean considered that.

“Kind of a long shot, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, it is,” Sam agreed. “But, I said I’d check it out. Just in case. Mom volunteered to go instead.”

“Well, she’s still lookin’ into it,” Dean said. “Maybe it turned into something.”

Sam ran his thumb across his cell phone screen. He’d been asleep for about two hours. He pulled up Mary’s number and sent a text.

“I’m texting her. We’ll see what she says,” Sam told Dean.

Dean nodded, but didn’t seem too interested.

“You eat?” Sam asked.

“No, not yet. Not really hungry.”

Sam studied his brother.

“Did you sleep?”

“Yeah, I slept.”

Sam gave him a skeptical look.

“Really.”

“Yeah, Sam. Really,” Dean barked. “What about you?”

Sam sighed.

“I was up late. Woke up early. Took a nap. There’s a lot going on. A lot to juggle.”

“Well, I’m back now. So stop tryin’ to juggle it alone.”

Sam blinked at him.

“I’m not.”

“Yes, you are. You’re doing what you always do, Sam. Taking everything on, everybody’s problems, and you’re trying to be the hero, fix everything at once.”

“Who else is going to do it, Dean?” Sam snapped. “This is our life. This is what we do. Mom’s been running around working cases. And you’ve been…”

Dean gave him an icy look and Sam caught himself.

“Look, I’m doing my best, okay? And, yeah, it’s hard. I’m the last one down and the first one up, and there’s a lot I’m trying to keep track of. But, what else am I supposed to do? I brought these people here and I promised them we’d find a way to save their world.”

“And we will, Sam. WE will.”

“How?” Sam asked.

Dean shrugged.

“We’ll figure it out. We always do. I know I’ve been… M.I.A. and I’m sorry about that. It wasn’t part of the plan.”

Sam sighed.

“Dean…”

“But, I’m here now. I’m back.”

Sam let out a scoffing sound, an incredulous half-laugh.

“No you’re not.”

Dean blinked at him in surprise.

“You’re not back, Dean. I mean, you’re here, and you’re you. But, you’re not here.”

Dean frowned.

“You lost me.”

Sam combed his fingers through his hair.

“I get it, okay? Believe me. Having an archangel inside you, it’s…”

“Don’t,” Dean warned.

Sam frowned. Dean’s voice wasn’t a loud bark or an angry hiss. There was a break in it. When Dean looked at him, Sam saw big, fearful eyes.

“Just don’t,” Dean said.

Sam softened and took a breath, nodding.

“Okay,” he said.

He opened his take-out container.

“Dude, what is this?” he asked.

“Your breakfast.”

Sam pulled out a massive breakfast sandwich.

“This is a heart attack in a box,” he said.

Dean smiled wide.

“You’re welcome.”


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This story takes place after episode 14.02 “Gods and Monsters.”
> 
> The arrival of John Winchester raises many questions, and gives us a glimpse into a world in which a few vital moments went a different way.
> 
> Notes: This piece is being crossposted on my Tumblr: http://dingoes8myrp.tumblr.com/post/182642816072/supernatural-the-man-with-no-name-chapter-18

**Eighteen**

Mary carried two full paper bags across the motel parking lot. She balanced one on her knee as she fished the room key out of her pocket on its bulky plastic keychain. She caught one bag just before it toppled.

The door opened and she blinked up at John. He smiled.

“Need a hand?”

Mary let him take one of the bags, gratefully, but she frowned deeply as she kicked the door closed behind her.

“You shouldn’t be opening the door when I’m not here,” she said.

It was slightly ridiculous. She knew that. The only people who knew John was around were Castiel and Jack. But, until she knew why John was here and what it meant, she couldn’t be too careful.

“You never know who or what might be on the other side,” she finished.

John set his bag down on the small, round table by the window.

“Last I checked, folks who want me dead don’t bring me groceries first,” he said.

Mary sighed as she set her own bag down.

“You know what I mean.”

John put his hands on his hips, dropping his head to the side.

“You know, that’s a real funny way of saying ‘thank you.’”

Mary looked at him and he smiled. It was the same pleasant, smartass smile he’d given her a hundred times when she was being ridiculous. 

“Thanks,” she said.

He chuckled. Mary started emptying the bags. She wasn’t sure how long they’d be there, but she’d decided it would be best to keep John in the room as much as possible. Out of sight. Out of danger.

John started pulling things out of the bags with her. Pop Tarts. Coffee. Coffee filters. Sugar packets. A small carton of milk. Bread. Peanut butter. Jelly. Microwavable soup. Bottled water. A six-pack of beer.

“We’re gonna need more beer,” he said.

“I know,” she said. “There’s more in the trunk. I didn’t have enough hands.”

John chuckled.

“Now you’re talkin’.”

Mary stole glances at him as they organized their supplies, putting the milk and beer in the fridge, piling everything else neatly on the table. 

“I should’ve gotten cereal,” she muttered.

There was always something she forgot or missed or didn’t do right. 

“After that breakfast, I might not have to eat again for days,” John quipped.

Mary smiled, but it faltered as she wondered if he’d had to go days without eating before. 

John gave her a nod.

“What’s on your mind?” he asked.

She had that look she always got when something weighed heavy. She looked away.

“Oh, lots of things,” she sighed.

He sat down on the edge of the bed.

“Wanna catch me up?” 

Mary eased into one of the chairs by the table.

“That’s… a long and complicated story.”

John shrugged.

“I ain’t goin’ anywhere.”


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This story takes place after episode 14.02 “Gods and Monsters.”
> 
> The arrival of John Winchester raises many questions, and gives us a glimpse into a world in which a few vital moments went a different way.
> 
> Notes: This piece is being crossposted on my Tumblr: http://dingoes8myrp.tumblr.com/post/182674388282/supernatural-the-man-with-no-name-chapter-19

**Nineteen**

Jack felt like he’d been washing dishes for a really long time. He guessed he had. There were a lot of dishes that had piled up throughout the day. 

Cleaning was something he could do to help.

It also meant he didn’t have to talk to anyone, didn’t have to lie.

The fridge opened and closed behind him.

“Hey, kid.”

Dean’s voice made him flinch slightly. He felt guilty just being in the room with him, knowing this secret.

If his mom came back, if she was here somewhere, walking around, would Dean tell him? Would Sam?

He liked to think they would, but he wasn’t sure.

Dean walked over to Jack when he didn’t answer, twisting the cap off his beer.

“Hey. You okay?”

Jack shut off the faucet and turned to look at him, smiling a strained smile.

“I’m fine, Dean.”

Dean sipped his beer, studying Jack.

“Okay,” he said.

He looked at all the dishes in the strainer, the ones still left in the sink.

“What, nobody cleans up after themselves around here?” he muttered. “Place is like a damn zoo.”

“I don’t mind cleaning,” Jack said.

Dean gave a small smile, clapping him on the shoulder.

“You’re a good kid,” he said.

Jack looked down at the sink and suddenly felt very sad. Dean tilted his head to look at him.

“Jack?”

Jack looked over at him and there was something heavy behind his eyes. Dean frowned.

“What’s up? Why do you look like Jack Nicholson in The Shining?”

Dean realized as soon as he said it that Jack would have no idea what he was talking about.

“What’s wrong, Jack?” he asked.

Jack shook his head.

“Why would something be wrong?”

He couldn’t say nothing was wrong because something was wrong. Or maybe something was right and he was wrong not to mention it. 

“You just look… like something’s bothering you, that’s all,” Dean said.

Jack forced himself to smile.

“I’m fine,” he insisted.

He was. He _was_ fine. That was true. 

Dean studied him for several seconds, then nodded, deciding not to push it.

“Okay. Well, if you decide you’re _not_ fine, if you need to talk, let me know.”

“I will,” Jack promised.

As Dean left the kitchen, Jack realized it was early for beer.


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This story takes place after episode 14.02 “Gods and Monsters.”
> 
> The arrival of John Winchester raises many questions, and gives us a glimpse into a world in which a few vital moments went a different way.
> 
> Notes: This piece is being crossposted on my Tumblr: http://dingoes8myrp.tumblr.com/post/182698489547/supernatural-the-man-with-no-name-chapter-20

**Twenty**

Mary rested her hands on her thighs, sitting in the chair across from John. Part of her still couldn’t believe he was really there. He just looked at her and waited. 

“Oh, boy,” she sighed. “Okay.”

Where to start.

“Do you remember how we met?” she asked.

She was curious to know where the similarities between their worlds ended and the differences began. What was the turning point?

John chuckled at the memory, running a hand over his hair.

“Yeah. You knocked me flat on my ass coming out of the movie theater,” he said.

At least, in his timeline, that was how it happened. 

Mary grinned.

“I was so embarrassed,” she said. “Couldn’t stop apologizing.”

“And I said you could buy me a cup of coffee to make up for it,” he finished.

They smiled at each other, both remembering the night they met. Mary cleared her throat.

“Okay. So that’s the same,” she concluded. “Were we married on your end?”

He nodded.

“Yes, ma’am. August nineteenth, nineteen-seventy-five.”

“Reno?”

John chuckled and nodded.

“Reno, baby.”

Mary smiled, remembering their ‘honeymoon,’ which had been a week of gambling and making damn good use of their hotel suite (particularly the bed). John gave her a knowing smirk.

“That was a good time,” he said.

Mary held back a grin. Barely.

“Yes, it was,” she agreed.

They were both quiet, regarding one another. So, they’d fallen in love the same way. They’d each still been those people.

“Dean’s birthday?” she asked.

“January twenty-fourth, nineteen-seventy-nine. Sam?”

“May second, nineteen-eighty-three. The Impala?”

John laughed.

“You weren’t happy with me when I bought that car. I was supposed to buy that van, but I changed my mind. Can’t really remember why. That would’ve been… nineteen-seventy-three.”

There was something electric between them as they rebuilt their lives, each filling in blanks for the other.

“You mentioned my deal with Azazel,” Mary said. 

John nodded.

“Yeah. You said a yellow-eyed demon killed your parents, killed me. I don’t remember shit about bein’ dead. Thought I’d passed out or something like that. But, he told you he’d bring me back if you made a deal. If you let it in. We never quite figured out what that meant. Ten years came and went, and nothing remarkable happened. But, you made the deal. He brought me back.”

“I know what he meant,” Mary said.

John leaned forward slightly, intrigued. That had been the big mystery of their lives, the unanswered question. What the hell had Azazel traded for John? 

Mary leaned forward, resting her elbows on her lap and clasping her hands together.

“November second, nineteen-eighty-three,” she said. “Does that mean anything to you? That date?”

John thought about it, stroking his beard.

“No. I don’t think so.”

Mary nodded, not surprised.

“Over here, that’s the day I died.”

John looked at her with wide eyes. Mary nodded.

“I got up in the middle of the night, checked in on Sam, and I thought I saw you standing there. But, when I went to the kitchen I saw you asleep on the couch. I ran back to Sam and it was the demon, Yellow-Eyes, standing over him. He was feeding him blood, John. His blood.”

John straightened.

“Jesus!”

Demon blood. Did that happen on his side, too? It made sense if it did.

“‘Don’t get out of bed,’” Mary muttered.

She remembered that ‘strange hunter’ way back in 1973, the man who had come to dinner with her parents. She hadn’t known at the time that it was Dean, that he’d come to warn her. It hadn’t clicked until after she’d come back and met him as an adult. 

“Huh?” John asked.

Mary looked at him.

“Back in nineteen-seventy-three, I met someone. A hunter, like me, like my family. He told me ‘November second, nineteen-eighty-three, don’t get out of bed.’ But, I didn’t remember. Maybe your Mary did.”

John frowned.

“Why would somebody tell you that?”

“It was Dean. Our Dean,” she said. “Of course, I didn’t know it then.”

John ran a hand over his face.

“Wait a minute. You’re talking about time travel. Marty McFly, Back to the Future kind of stuff.”

Mary shrugged.

“Is that any weirder than coming back from the dead? Than traveling to other worlds through little lines of light?”

John stood up, took a breath.

“I think I need a beer for this. Is it too early for beer?”

Mary stood.

“For us, having this conversation? Hell, no. Grab me one, too.”


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This story takes place after episode 14.02 “Gods and Monsters.”
> 
> The arrival of John Winchester raises many questions, and gives us a glimpse into a world in which a few vital moments went a different way.
> 
> Notes: This piece is being crossposted on my Tumblr: http://dingoes8myrp.tumblr.com/post/182726412232/supernatural-the-man-with-no-name-chapter-21

**Twenty-One**

John opened the little fridge and got two beers, handing one to Mary. They sat side-by-side on the edge of the bed.

“So, on your side, I was alive up until… what, two-thousand-nine? Two-thousand-ten?” Mary asked.

“May fourteenth, two-thousand-ten,” John clarified.

That had been an ugly day. In the end, Mary had let John and the boys try to save her, knowing if she didn’t they’d always wonder if they could’ve done more. 

“When it came down to it, the very end of it,” John told her, “you locked yourself away in a room at the other end of this abandoned farmhouse. That was where we ended up, hellhounds on your ass. We fought ‘em off as best we could, but you knew they wouldn’t stop until they got you. And they did. We didn’t see it, but we could hear it.”

John rested his head in his hand. He could still hear the howls, the snarls, Mary’s agonized screams. She put a hand on his back and he sighed.

“God damn, that was a grim day,” he whispered.

He sat up and sniffed back threatening tears.

“After that it was just me and the boys. And we kept doing what we did. Saving people, hunting things. Like you taught us.”

Mary felt a twinge of guilt over that. Even when she’d been there to raise the boys alongside John, they’d still ended up hunters.

“You did the same thing here,” she said. “I died, like Jessica, and you did the same thing Sam did. You dove in, became hell-bent on finding the thing that did it. You became a hunter, and you taught Sam and Dean how to defend themselves. Sam still went to Stanford, still met Jessica. She still died. But, I never got to meet her.”

She was slightly envious of that. She would’ve liked to have seen Sam happy and in love. Dean, too. 

“He still had powers. Sam,” she continued. “I don’t know all the details. But, when Lucifer rose Sam didn’t say yes. He killed Ruby.”

“Thank Christ,” John muttered.

“He did say yes eventually,” Mary told him. “But it was part of a plan. I don’t know the gritty details. They wouldn’t tell me. But, Sam ended up trapping Lucifer inside himself and jumping into this cage in Hell. Took Michael with him, too, somehow.”

“Damn.”

“Sam came back, somehow, but he didn’t have a soul. So, getting it back was a whole complicated mess. They had to make all these bargains to get it back, and then to repair it. Oh, it must have been horrific. I can’t imagine.”

So much of their lives had been horrific.

“Uh… Dean ended up in purgatory for a while,” she continued. “That was after they had to kill the leviathans.”

“Leviathans?” John asked.

Had he heard that right?

“You didn’t have any leviathans?” Mary asked. “Big serpent things that could look like people,” Mary said. “I never saw them myself.”

She kicked off her boots and crossed her legs under her to sit at the foot of the bed, facing the head. John turned, tucking one leg under himself, to face her.

“Let’s see…” she continued. “Then there was something about an angel tablet and a demon tablet? Closing the gates of Heaven and Hell, basically. But, there were these trials Sam tried to do to close Hell’s gates. Gruelling, from what Dean told me. He stopped Sam because he found out the trials were deadly. Then this angel, Metatron, closed the gates of Heaven and all the angels fell to earth and became human.”

John chuckled.

“Hell of a demotion.”

Mary laughed.

“Right? Some of them thought so too.”

It felt good to laugh with him again as they sat there drinking beer.

“Mary,” he said.

She looked at him and his smile had faded.

“Are they alive?”

Mary blinked in surprise.

“Sam. Dean. Are they…?”

He couldn’t bring himself to say ‘dead’ because calling them dead here seemed too final. 

“They’re alive, John,” she said. “They’re both alive.”

John breathed a sigh of relief.

“Thank God.”

“They’ve had it rough,” she said. “But, they’re good boys. Good men.”

She had to remind himself they weren’t ‘boys’ anymore. John nodded.

“Good. I’m glad to hear it.”

And he genuinely was.


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This story takes place after episode 14.02 “Gods and Monsters.”
> 
> The arrival of John Winchester raises many questions, and gives us a glimpse into a world in which a few vital moments went a different way.
> 
> Notes: This piece is being crossposted on my Tumblr: http://dingoes8myrp.tumblr.com/post/182763488147/supernatural-the-man-with-no-name-chapter-22

**Twenty-Two**

“Tell me about Jack,” John said. “What’s his deal?”

He’d been curious about the boy since he shook his hand at the diner. There was something off about him he couldn’t quite place.

“Jack is… complicated,” Mary warned.

“Ain’t it always complicated?”

John smiled.

“Jack is a nephilim,” Mary said. “He’s the son of a woman named Kelly Kline, who died. And Lucifer.”

John straightened.

“Lucifer? He has a son here?”

“Jack wants no part of him,” Mary said. “He considers Castiel his father. He’s a good kid. New. His aging process is… Well, he’s technically only a year old. So, he’s still wrapping his head around things.”

John didn’t know what to make of that.

“Is he… I mean, what the hell is he?”

“He’s a boy, John. A good boy. He used to be powerful, but he’s weakened now. Basically a mortal until he… recharges.”

She didn’t know if that was the right word.

John felt uneasy about that, but there wasn’t much he could do about it. The kid had seemed alright to him. Kind. Pleasant.

Mary finished her beer, standing to toss the can in the trash and grab another.

“I’m trying to figure out why we have a Castiel and you don’t,” she said.

“Well, how’d he wind up here in the first place?” John asked.

Mary closed the fridge, cracked her beer, and sat back down on the bed.

“That’s…”

“Complicated,” John finished.

Mary smiled. She took a swig of her beer before she answered.

“He, uh… He pulled Dean out of Hell.”

John’s eyes widened in alarm.

“Hell?”

Mary nodded.

“Azazel, he threw Sam into this… competition. Him and other people who were fed Azazel’s blood as children.”

John nodded slowly.

“And they all died one by one,” he said. “That happened on our side, too.”

“It did?”

John nodded.

“Did Sam… Did Sam die in your version, too?” Mary asked.

John frowned.

“What? No. Sam, he… Well, he had to kill some people, but he came out of that one on top.”

“So, Dean never made his deal on your end.”

“What deal?”

Mary sighed, trying to recalibrate.

“Sam didn’t make it to the end of Azazel’s game,” she explained. “So, Dean made a deal to bring him back. He went to Hell, and Castiel brought him back.”

John sat back against the headboard.

“God damn.”

“Wait, then how did the seals start on your side?” Mary asked.

“What?”

“The first seal, the one that set everything in motion. It was ‘a righteous man spilling blood in Hell.’ Dean. He was the first seal. If he never went to Hell, what kicked it off for you?”

John ran a hand along his jaw.

“I don’t know,” he said.

Mary wondered if that was true, or if there was something he was leaving out.

“Explain something to me,” John said. “If you died back in nineteen-eighty-three, how am I sitting here talking to you?”

“Honestly? Divine intervention.”

John blinked.

“Run that by me again?”

She threw up her free hand.

“The short answer is God’s sister.”

“God’s… sister?” John asked.

He had to wrap his head around ‘God’ and then ‘sister’ on top of that.

“Yeah,” Mary said. “There was this whole thing with these upper-tier demons called Knights of Hell, and that led to Cain. ‘Cain and Abel’ Cain. He was, like, the leader of the Knights of Hell. Dean, at some point, was given the Mark of Cain. He hasn’t told me the details. But, through the Mark of Cain, the darkness was released. God’s sister, Amara.”

“Holy shit,” John muttered.

It was like learning to hunt all over again. He couldn’t keep up.

“She wanted to destroy the world,” Mary continued. “Instead, God left with her so she wouldn’t be alone, and she - or they, I’m not really sure. Somebody brought me back. I don’t know why.”

John studied her.

“Why do you think?” he asked. “If you had to guess?”

Mary thought about it. She’d thought about it a lot since she’d been back, gone back and forth from one theory to another.

“To fix things,” she said. “Right my wrongs.”

“Right your wrongs?” John asked.

He sounded baffled. Mary smiled.

“I made that deal with Azazel,” she said. “Then I left you all, dragged you into this world of monsters and apocalypses. Plural fucking apocalypses. In another world, I didn’t make the deal and the earth fell to Michael. That world’s horrific. People are barely hanging on over there. In your world, I didn’t die the night Azazel visited Sam. But I died when Lucifer rose, and that world went to shit.”

She took a shaky breath, trying not to sob. John sat up, setting his beer on the bedside table.

“Mary.”

“No matter what I do, what I did or didn’t do in whatever universe, it’s always the wrong fucking thing!”

Her voice came out small and shaky and John put his arms around her without a thought, like it was the most natural thing in the world. Mary clung to him tight, sobbing quietly into his shirt.

“I don’t think that’s true,” John said.

His voice was quiet, soothing.

“I have one world where you died and Sam and Dean were never born because I didn’t make a deal. Another one where Dean and I died and Sam became Lucifer. This one where we both died and they’ve lost almost everyone they ever cared about. Now I’m back, and I know all of it. That every choice I ever make somehow leads to something horrible. It’s like… It’s like this is some kind of punishment.”

John frowned, pulling away slightly to look down at her.

“What?”

She wiped at her face.

“I don’t remember dying,” she said. “I mean, I remember Azazel, and I remember being dead. I was in Heaven. With you, and little Dean, and baby Sam. Mom. Dad. We were together, and we were normal, and we were happy. And now I’m here, and every day’s a fight. Some days every second. Just a fight to keep going, not to give up. And every morning I wake up and for about five seconds, I forget where I am. For five seconds you’re still alive, and my sons are still babies, and there are no monsters. And then I open my eyes, and I lose all of you all over again. I lose my whole family every day, and from that moment on every second is just keeping busy. Keeping moving. Filling the day up with endless things to do so I don’t have to think about everything I’ve lost. And there’s not even anyone to blame, because it’s all my fault. Every time, no matter how you slice it, it’s always because of something I did or didn’t do, and I just…”

John took her face gently in his hands. Her cheeks were damp and red with tears. His heart broke for her.

“I don’t know how to do this, John,” she said.

“Yes you do,” he whispered. “You’re doing it. You’ve always done it.”

He moved her hair out of her face so he could see her eyes.

“You fight,” he said. “You fight like Hell. Because the second you stop, the bad guys win.”

Mary sniffed, trying to collect herself.

“Maybe you are here to fix things,” John reasoned. “But, maybe not for you. Mary, out of the three worlds we’ve talked about, this is the only one where our sons are still our sons. Still alive and fighting hard for a world that hasn’t gone to shit yet. This is the only world where you, Sam, and Dean are all here together. Maybe you’re here because they need you, Mary.”

“They don’t,” she muttered.

“Of course they do,” John insisted. “You’re their mother.”

“I don’t even know them, John. When I died, Dean was four. Sam was just a baby. I missed their entire childhood. They’re grown men now and I have no idea who they are.”

“They’re your sons,” he said simply. “So, fight for them. Fight tooth and nail for them, Mary, because that’s who you are. A badass mama bear who’d do anything to protect her family.”

She closed her eyes tight against tears and nodded, wiping her nose on the back of her hand. She pulled away from him.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean to turn into a total basket case.”

John smiled.

“You’re not.”

He couldn't imagine what it was like for her to have fast-forwarded through their entire childhood. He remembered her decorating for birthday parties, dinosaur themed and Indiana Jones themed. There had been one with cowboys. She'd opened Christmas presents with the kids in the morning, taught Sam how to ride a bike. Mary had nursed their fevers, kissed their boo-boos better, helped Dean through his first break-up. John couldn't believe there was a version of him who had raised the boys without her.


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This story takes place after episode 14.02 “Gods and Monsters.”
> 
> The arrival of John Winchester raises many questions, and gives us a glimpse into a world in which a few vital moments went a different way.
> 
> Notes: This piece is being crossposted on my Tumblr: http://dingoes8myrp.tumblr.com/post/182795132147/supernatural-the-man-with-no-name-chapter-23

**Twenty-Three**

Mary stood, setting her beer down next to John's on the bedside table.

“I'll be back in a minute,” she said. 

She went into the bathroom and shut the door, leaning her palms against the sink. She couldn't believe she'd just poured her heart out like that. She'd been holding in so much pain, just trying to move past it. But, she supposed it made sense that she'd open up to John. 

When she came out of the bathroom John was microwaving soup. 

“Don't worry. I'll handle dinner,” he quipped. 

Mary chuckled. 

“Sorry it's not something more… you know, in the realm of home cooking.”

John laughed. 

“You never could cook,” he remembered. “Didn't have the patience for it, I reckoned.”

Mary stood beside him at the small counter. 

“It just always takes so long!” she insisted. “I want to eat, not start a project.”

The microwave dinged and John took out the soup. 

“Wedding soup for the lady,” he said. 

He popped his hearty beef into the microwave.

“Thanks,” Mary said.

John had always cooked. He never really needed a recipe. Just threw things together. 

“Why don't we take a break from the depressing shit?” John suggested. “Tell me something good about this world.”

Mary thought about it.

“Hmm. Obviously, Sam and Dean are here,” she said. “They found this bunker safehouse and they've kind of made it their home. Sam gets up early. He’s the first one up most mornings. There’s always coffee brewing when everyone wakes up.”

The microwave dinged and John grabbed his soup. 

“So Sam's doing okay over here?” he asked. 

“Yeah,” Mary said. “I mean, he has his baggage. He’s been through a lot. But, he's patient and kind, a good hunter, good leader.”

John was relieved to hear that. 

They carried their soup over to the table. John brought over two plastic spoons he found in an overhead cupboard. 

“And Dean? He's okay too?”

Mary blew on a spoonful of soup. 

It had to come up some time. 

“Dean's… had a rough patch,” she began. 

John frowned. 

“Aw, hell. What happened?”

“Michael,” Mary said. “Another world’s Michael.”

John set down his spoon.

“Run that by me again?”

Mary felt exhausted from talking, but also glad to be talking to him.

“The other world I told you about… The other other world… You, Sam, and Dean never existed in that place. Michael beat Lucifer somehow, and started wiping out humans. When Jack was born, it opened a door into that world. Lucifer - our Lucifer - came for his son. We planned to trap Lucifer in Michael's apocalypse world. And we did. Well, _I_ did. But I trapped myself there, too.”

John frowned deeply. He didn't like where this was headed.

“I figured he'd just kill me, but he said he wanted to trade me to Sam and Dean for Jack. I tried to get away a couple of times, but he always caught up with me.”

She sighed wearily. This part was going to be tough.

“The thing is, Lucifer seemed genuinely interested in keeping me alive and unharmed. Michael wasn't too concerned about that. So, when he found Lucifer and overpowered him, he took me hostage. Let's just say it was no honeymoon suite in Reno.”

John cringed, not wanting to imagine what happened to her. 

“Shit,” he breathed.

“Jack managed to cross over,” Mary continued. “He helped me escape Michael, and we found a camp of survivors. We worked with them for a while, fighting Michael's angels. Sam and Dean found a way to cross over to that world and we brought the survivors back here with us. They’re all at the safehouse now.”

“That’s the army you mentioned,” John surmised.

Mary nodded.

“Michael and Lucifer were left behind, but they made it back over here somehow. Lucifer made some kind of deal with Michael, promising Michael this world in exchange for Jack.”

Mary frowned, uncertain how the rest played out.

“From what I’ve been told, Michael took Dean somewhere and planned to kill him, but Jack was somehow able to stop it. But, Lucifer intervened, like he tends to do, and drained Jack’s grace.”

“His what?”

“Grace,” Mary repeated. “It’s what gives angels their power. Without it, they’re mortal. Like us.”

“Damn,” John muttered.

He was beginning to understand why Jack seemed a little off.

“Unfortunately, Jack’s grace gave Lucifer the boost he needed to defeat Michael. So, Dean made a deal with Michael. To be his vessel - to allow Michael to hop inside him. Because Dean, he’s…”

“Michael’s ‘true vessel,’” John finished.

Mary nodded.

“So, Dean agreed to be Michael’s vessel and they were able to kill Lucifer. But, Michael kept Dean as his vessel for a few months until… well, two days ago.”

“Holy shit,” John muttered.

By now, they’d both finished their soup. She stood and picked up both their containers, stepping into the kitchen to toss them in the trash. John stood from the chair, raking a hand through his hair.

“And that’s pretty much it. The whole story,” she said. “As far as I know, anyway. I’m still catching up myself.”

She chuckled. John stared at her, not knowing what to say and having so much to say at the same time.

“Jesus, Mary,” he breathed.

“I know it’s a lot,” she said.

He gave a small laugh.

“A whole lifetime always is.”


	24. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This story takes place after episode 14.02 “Gods and Monsters.”
> 
> The arrival of John Winchester raises many questions, and gives us a glimpse into a world in which a few vital moments went a different way.
> 
> Notes: This piece is being crossposted on my Tumblr: http://dingoes8myrp.tumblr.com/post/183230768187/supernatural-the-man-with-no-name-chapter-24

**Twenty-Four**

John sat down on the edge of the bed, still processing everything she’d told him. On the one hand, his sons were alive. On the other, they’d been through a hell of a lot. He couldn’t imagine what that had done to them.

Mary sat beside him on the bed, one leg folded underneath her.

“You said when you saw me at the police station it was like seeing a ghost,” she said. “But, when you talked about Sam, the family getting into hunting… I was around then.”

John nodded.

“Yeah.”

“What happened to me over there? For you?”

He’d mention how she died, but not why. John sighed heavily.

“That’s also a long, complicated story. A lot like yours in some parts,” he said.

Mary smiled.

“Come on, I told you mine.”

John nodded.

“Yeah, you did.”

He got up to get a beer out of the fridge. He grabbed another one for Mary and went back over to the bed. He’d taken off his boots. His socks had holes in them.

Mary took the beer John handed her. He got back up on the bed, cracking open his can and taking a few generous gulps.

“I told you about Sam and his powers,” he said. “About the demon, Ruby.”

Mary nodded.

“Well, Sam and Ruby went to confront Lilith,” John said. “She was the first demon and the last seal.”

Mary nodded. She’d heard about Lilith.

“Here, too,” she said. “That happened here, too.” 

“I guess he’d gone over too far with the demon blood,” John said. “Maybe because he’d practiced his powers more early on, because I’d encouraged him. Maybe because he and Dean never really got right with each other after Sam went his own way. Must’ve been a bunch of little things. Anyway, he was different. Wasn’t Sam anymore. He was… something else. Something… dark, and mean, and powerful.”

Mary couldn’t imagine it. Her patient, gentle Sam. Her baby boy.

“Dean figured it out somehow, where he was at,” John said. “I still don’t know how. You were chasing a lead in Delaware, a seal. Dean and me were in Maryland. Dean called me, rattled off something about Lilith and Lucifer. I couldn’t quite make him out. But he told me where he was headed, in case he failed, he said. In case he couldn’t do it. I wasn’t sure what was going on, but I hauled ass to that convent. Left you a crazy ass voicemail on the way. But, by the time I got there…”

He took a deep breath and let it out shakily.

“I was too late. Dean, he… He was dead. They were both gone by then, and Lucifer was back, but I didn’t know that part yet.”

John wiped at his eyes and Mary moved to sit beside him, putting an arm around him in half a hug. 

“Oh, John.”

“I got him in the car,” John said. “I couldn’t leave him there. But I just sat there. Just sat there in the driver’s seat, sobbing like a baby for I don’t know how long. Then you called me. Christ, I didn’t know how to tell you. But you heard it. Heard it in my voice when I answered. You knew. You just knew something had happened to our boys.”

His voice broke and Mary held him tight. He rested his head against her for a moment, comforted by his wife’s warmth, her smell. He sat up, sniffing, recovering.

“You told me not to burn him,” he continued. “You said to wait for you, not to go anywhere. So, I just waited. I sat in the car, Dean in the damn trunk ‘cause I didn’t know where else to put him. And I prayed. Mary, I prayed so hard for so long my voice gave out. I was cursin’ God, the Devil, the damn angels, the whole world. And you never came. I thought, ‘shit, not her, too.’ And then I heard something.”

Mary frowned at him as his expression changed.

“I didn’t know what the hell it was. It sounded like scratching or scraping. Then it was louder, banging. The trunk. Dean was in the trunk.”

Mary put a hand to her mouth, putting together what happened before John told her. Because she knew herself. She knew what she would have done if it had been her on the other end of that phone call.

“I popped the trunk and ran back there as fast as I could to get him out,” John said. “I couldn’t believe it. He was dead. I knew he was dead. I’d tried to bring him back. CPR, mouth-to-mouth, pounded on his chest. He was gone, long gone when I got there. But, when I opened the trunk he crawled out of it, grabbing onto me and looking around with these big, frenzied eyes. He was as confused as I was. ‘Dad?’ he said. ‘Dad, what happened?’ But, I just grabbed onto him and held him, held onto him for dear life. And he said ‘Dad… Dad, it’s Sam.’ And he told me Sam wasn’t Sam anymore. Really wasn’t Sam. That by the time he got there the final seal was broken, and Lucifer was coming. That demon bitch stabbed him right as he heard Sam say ‘yes.’”

Mary’s stomach dropped. How could he have done it? Sam, who was so strong, and could be so stubborn when he was sure he was right.

“We met up with you,” John continued. “And you held Dean so tight. You didn’t want to talk about how it happened. You didn’t care. You had one son back. Now we had to get Sam. So, we started looking for a way to take down Lucifer and save Sam. But, we ran out of time. You ran out of time.”

Mary nodded.

“I made a deal, didn’t I?” she asked. “A crossroads deal.”

John nodded.

“You for Dean. A trade. They gave you one year instead of ten. You didn’t tell us until near the end. Didn’t want us to veer off course trying to save you. You wanted all our attention on Sam. And we were so angry at you. But, I understand now why you did it. Because we would have had to choose between you and Sam, and that would’ve been impossible. I figured that out later, after you were gone. When the world was going to Hell, and me and Dean were running out of options. Dean, he took a page out of your book, but he didn’t make a deal with a demon. He made one with Michael.”

Mary closed her eyes, pained.

“I got there too late. He’d already said yes, already found Sam - Lucifer. I had to watch my sons fight to the death. Christ, I was actually grateful you weren’t there to see it, Mary. I tried to stop it, tried to intervene, but they beat the shit out of me, both of them. Left me in a heap, choking on my own blood, bones broken all over. But, in the end, Dean came through. I don’t know how or why, but he came through. He said ‘I’m here, Sammy. I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere. I’m not gonna leave you, Sammy.’ But, I don’t think Sam heard him. If he did, he couldn’t do anything. I watched Dean die all over again, and Sam was used to do it.”

“Oh, God, John.”

Mary was crying too at this point, and the two of them hung onto each other. John spoke into her hair.

“He healed me,” he said. “Sam. Lucifer. Maybe they’re one and the same. Maybe that’s what it did, the demon blood, the visions, all of it. I don’t know. I asked him why and he said ‘Because I have work for you.’ I told him ‘I’ll kill you, you son of a bitch. Maybe not today. Maybe not tomorrow. But someday, I’m gonna kill you.’ He just laughed. And then he was gone. And I spent every moment of my life wishing I was dead, but I kept my sorry ass alive for Sam. Because if he’s still in there, if any part of him is still in there, I’m gonna save him.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shout out to the Walking Dead Easter egg if anyone can spot it :)


	25. Chapter 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a chaptered fanfiction piece taking place during season 14 of Supernatural.
> 
> Premise
> 
> This story takes place after episode 14.02 “Gods and Monsters.”
> 
> The arrival of John Winchester raises many questions, and gives us a glimpse into a world in which a few vital moments went a different way.
> 
> Note: This piece is being crossposted on my Tumblr: http://dingoes8myrp.tumblr.com/post/183652111252/supernatural-the-man-with-no-name-chapter-25

**Twenty-Five**

Sam stood in the kitchen, staring at the half-full pot of coffee, debating. There was chatter in the main room. There was always chatter around here now. He barely noticed it anymore.

“Sam?”

He turned around as Castiel came into the room, his brows knit. Sam gave a tired smile.

“Hey, Cas.”

“Are you alright?” Castiel asked.

Sam looked run-down. Weathered. He didn’t like it.

“Yeah,” Sam said. “Just debating a cup of coffee. What about you? How’re you doing?”

“Fine,” Castiel said.

A beat. 

“Okay,” Sam said. “I, uh, I guess I should get back out there. Sounds like there’s some debate going on.”

He started to pass Castiel to go through the doorway.

“Sam? Wait.”

He stopped and half-turned to look at Cas.

Castiel didn’t know what to say to him. He wanted to give him relief of some kind. 

“I just… I want you to know you’re doing a good job,” Castiel said.

Sam chuckled.

“Uh… Thanks, Cas.”

“I mean it,” Castiel said. “You’re a good leader. They respect you.”

Sam nodded uncomfortably.

“Thank you,” he muttered. “I’m gonna… Get back.”

He headed over to the large table, where some of the others were gathered. He braced himself for having to jump into a heated argument, but his heart lightened as he got closer.

“No way, man. Superman would beat Batman every time!” Griffin was saying. 

“But, Batman’s clever!” Greta said. “And rich. He can buy literally any weapon.”

“Bullshit.”

“Why the hell are we talking about this?” Bobby asked.

“Sam!” Maggie said. “What do you think?”

“Uh… I missed it. What are we talking about?” he asked.

He pulled up a chair and sat, grateful for the casual banter around the table.


	26. Chapter 26

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a chaptered fanfiction piece taking place during season 14 of Supernatural.
> 
> **Premise**
> 
> This story takes place after episode 14.02 “Gods and Monsters.”
> 
> The arrival of John Winchester raises many questions, and gives us a glimpse into a world in which a few vital moments went a different way.
> 
> Notes: This piece is being crossposted on my Tumblr: http://dingoes8myrp.tumblr.com/post/183652864272/supernatural-the-man-with-no-name-chapter-26

**Twenty-Six**

Mary woke up gradually, the world tugging at her subconsciousness. She fought to stay asleep. She was having the strangest dream, but she didn’t want to wake up. Not yet. She didn’t want to lose him again yet.

As alertness crept in, Mary heard steady breathing beside her, felt a warm torso under her hand. She raised her head, forcing her eyes open. 

John.

She sat up, looking around. John stirred with her movement, his brows creasing. 

They were in a motel room. John was beside her in bed. They must’ve fallen asleep talking. 

It wasn’t a dream.

Mary could have cried with relief.

-

There was water running somewhere. John could hear it, far off at first and then not so far. There was a bed under him. A real bed. He felt warm and comfortable. Rested.

He took his time opening his eyes, recognizing the motel room he’d fallen asleep in. 

Mary.

He sat up, looking around groggily. She was here. She had to be. Still, panic made him stumble out of bed half-asleep.

Water running. The bathroom. The shower. His mind caught up quickly and he relaxed. She was in the shower.

There was coffee in the pot on the counter. John found a mug and poured himself a cup.

It was almost normal. Standing there drinking coffee, waiting for his wife to get out of the shower.

Except she wasn’t his wife here. Not really. 

-

When Mary came out of the bathroom John was leaning his back against the counter, holding a cup of coffee. His hair was rumpled. She smiled and he did the same, tilting his mug to her.

“Mornin’.”

“Morning,” she said.

She towel dried her hair as she stepped out of the bathroom, carrying her clothes from yesterday.

“Do you need the bathroom?” she asked. 

“You done in there?” he asked.

“Yeah. Have at it.”

John went into the bathroom and closed the door. Mary went over to the table where her cell phone sat on the charger. She unplugged it and turned it on, put it in her pocket. Mary shoved her dirty clothes into a plastic bag in the corner of the room by her duffle. 

Her phone vibrated in her pocket, then dinged. And dinged. And dinged.

“Crap.”

Mary pulled her phone out of her pocket to see a series of text messages.

DEAN: Thanks for breakfast.

SAM: Hey. Just checking in. Anything on J.D.?

DEAN: Where are you?

There were two voicemails. She typed in her passcode and listened. Sam's voice came through the tinny speaker.

_“Hey, Mom. It’s getting kind of late and I haven’t heard from you, so I’m just… you know, calling to make sure you’re okay. Just give me a call back when you get this. Or text me. Bye.”_

The second message started. Castiel’s deep, somber voice.

_“Mary. It’s Cas. I’m having trouble keeping this… on the ‘down low.’ No one’s heard from you, and people are asking questions. I’ll come find you to check on you in the morning if I don’t hear from you.”_

Mary sighed, disconnecting from her voicemail.

“Shit.”


	27. Chapter 27

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a chaptered fanfiction piece taking place during season 14 of Supernatural.
> 
> Premise
> 
> This story takes place after episode 14.02 “Gods and Monsters.”
> 
> The arrival of John Winchester raises many questions, and gives us a glimpse into a world in which a few vital moments went a different way.
> 
> Notes: This piece is being crossposted on my Tumblr: https://dingoes8myrp.tumblr.com/post/185960633622/supernatural-the-man-with-no-name-chapter-27

**Twenty-Seven**

Dean wasn’t surprised Mary had disappeared. It certainly wasn’t the first time. Although, now, he kind of understood it. He’d wanted to skip out a few times in the short time he’d been himself again.

Sometimes you just needed to get away.

Sam paced the floor with long strides, his hands combing through his hair. He made Dean’s bedroom feel small and cramped.

“I just think it’s weird,” he said.

“How is it weird, Sam? It’s Mom. She bails. It’s kind of her thing.”

Sam frowned at him.

“No. It’s not ‘her thing,’ Dean. Yeah, once or twice, she needed some space. But, it’s different now.”

“How? How is it different?”

Sam stopped pacing and sighed.

“Because you were gone, okay?” he said. “You were gone, and I was here, dealing with all this. And she stayed, Dean. She took jobs, cases, investigated leads. But she always picked up the phone, and she always came back.”

Dean studied him, surprised at that. A little hurt.

“Okay, so? Maybe she fell back into old habits.”

Sam sighed in frustration.

“Or, something’s wrong,” he insisted. “Bobby said she called him yesterday morning. He called the police station, and they confirmed they cut their John Doe loose maybe two hours later. So where the hell is she, Dean? Who or what did she pick up?”

Dean stood from his bed.

“Alright. Alright. It’s fishy. I get it,” he admitted.

“No, you don’t,” Sam said. “Because I sent her to it. Whatever it is, whatever happened, it’s on me because I let her go check it out.”

“What? No. Sam, you were tired. Walking around here like a friggin’ zombie. You needed some shut-eye. You knew it, and Mom knew it. Her checking it out made sense. And Mom’s a badass. She can handle herself.”

Sam’s jaw was clenched. His nostrils flared. 

“If she handled it, then why isn’t she here?” he asked. “Why isn’t she calling? Texting?”

Dean rubbed his jaw, feeling stubble there. He needed a shave.

“I don’t know,” he admitted.

Castiel’s voice startled them from the doorway. 

“I do.”

Dean frowned at him.

“Cas?”

He stepped into the room, looking guilty.

“Cas, what is it?” Sam asked.

They both walked over to him. He looked into each of their anxious faces.

“She’s fine,” he said. “We’ve… been in touch.”

Sam gaped at him.

“You’ve ‘been in touch?’ What the hell does that mean?”

“I saw her yesterday,” he said. “She told me she’d be ‘laying low.’ She called me a few minutes ago to tell me where she is.”

Sam looked from Castiel to Dean, incredulous.

“Okay. Is she alright?” Dean asked.

“Where is she?” Sam demanded.

“I can take you there,” Castiel offered. “It’s… better if you speak to her in person.”

Dean looked at Sam, starting to feel uneasy.

“Cas, what the hell’s going on?”

Castiel looked at Dean with a pained expression.

“It’s best if you hear it from your mother.”

“Hear what?” Sam asked.

Castiel sighed.

“I know you’re worried, but I need you to trust me.”

“Cas, is Mom in trouble?” Dean asked.

“No. No, she’s fine,” he assured them. “Come with me. I’ll take you to her.”


End file.
